The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training
by When the Morning Dew Falls
Summary: A satirical fic in which a wealthy adolescent strives to become a Gym Leader, only because of his love for the majestic Meganium. It's a quest of self-disovery in which he'll be taught many valuable lessons through many people and pokémon.
1. Prologue: Background Information

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*~*The Felicities/Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~* 

The Prologue

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Written by The Duke of Briarcliffe

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Author's Note: This is a new fanfiction of mine. It will be satirical in tone, or at least I hope so, and may prove to be funny at times. I think that I'm going to write in third-person for once. Oh, I won't even bother writing a disclaimer because many of you already know the deal—The Duke of Briarcliffe

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Is it possible that if a person is born into the comforts of society, or with a silver spoon in his/her mouth, that he/she can refrain from being a complete and utter snob? Well, Duncan did grow up to be a snob. How couldn't he?

Duncan was born in to the high and mighty Beechcombe family just seventeen years ago. His parents, Crandall and Helen, adored him and gave him everything that a child could need...or want, without the common sense of knowing when enough was enough. Or without having the sense of justice that all parents should have.

By the age of three, little Duncan was considered to be a child prodigy. He had exceptional talent on the piano and had even learned to read before he learned to talk, however that was accomplished. He was a huge fan of Pokémon Literature and spent hours perusing the pages that featured his favorite pokémon, Meganium.

After learning how to read music, he was determined in learning how to write the scores. His parents demanded a tutor for him. He profited greatly from the tutor and was already composing by the age of five.

By the September of his fifth year, young Duncan's parents knew that in order to create a well-rounded person who would grow to have a state of mental and social equilibrium, he would have to enter grade school. His young peers immediately flocked to him; but after a month or so, they became jealous of his treasures and abilities and began to exclude him from their games. He soon became a loner. His teachers, however, loved him and even promoted him to the first grade after only four months of kindergarten.

He continued to excel in his studies, especially that of pokémon, until he came to the age of twelve, in the seventh grade, when social abilities are practically _required_. To put it plainly, he just didn't fit in. His parents, who held the divine right to protect him, for he was their only child, decided that he would best fit in amongst his _equals_. Therefore, they sent him to the prestigious Pokémon Technical Institute.

Duncan was a hit there. Everyone liked him. They especially liked how rich and powerful his family was and reveled at what great parties he threw. Basically, everyone was kissing his ass for their own benefit, and he hardly cared. He was finally being accepted for who he was. He did have one true friend though; his name was Madison. They did everything together and are still good friends to this day.

There was a time when Duncan realized what was going on around him. He was an intelligent person, after all. The moment he stopped throwing parties, the more disinterested his peers became in him. He tried fitting in from there. It just didn't work out. Everyone saw what was on the outside and not in the inside. They did know that he possessed a good sense of humor or that he had the potential to be caring, and, maybe even loyal. The only people who did were his numerous flings, his parents, and of course, Madison.

He envied his best friend. He envied the way people flocked to him because of his addictive personality and go-with-the-flow attitude towards life. He lived for the moment and not for the future, for that is something that is not guaranteed. Duncan wanted his popularity but could not attain it. Nobody knew this—he had too much pride to actually admit it.

Basically, as a result of his jealousy, he didn't care much about anyone who wasn't a part of his family or who wasn't Ben, he blocked anyone else out of his life. The only thing he had to worry about was himself. He manipulated others in order to do what he wished. Lying was his forte and at times, used it to get himself out of trouble. He couldn't trust anyone, so why should he make people want to trust him? 

By the end of his senior year, Duncan had had a full education in the study pokémon, received a fabulous score on his **P**okémon**.S**cholastic**.A**ptitude**.T**est, and had completed the most horrible time of his life. Feeling like he'd actually accomplished something, he decided that it was a fine time to think about he was going to do with himself.

As he cruised over the cerulean waves, leaving a mass of fluffy white froth in its wake, that bordered the illustrious Seafoam Islands and sipped on a guava-melon smoothie, he reminisced of his childhood. He remember that he'd always liked Meganium, the grass pokémon. Suddenly he concluded that the field of pokémon would be the wisest career choice; after all, he'd only spent four years learning of nothing but the creatures. It was only logical.

But there's so many different fields! Which one could he possibly choose? He could afford to go into any one he wished, he had the money. The task of being an actual trainer would be too laborious for him and the thought of researching behavior was out of the question. So, he brought the subject up to his parents.

"Mamma," he said, twirling his crystal glass around; it refracted the sunlight into the wonderful colors of Roy G. Biv. "I have something to ask of you and father."

Helen craned her neck to the left, she'd just rolled on her back because her body had reached the preferred bronze tone, and asked, "what ever could it be, dearest?"

"Yeah, son," his father agreed in his gruff voice. "You know that you can talk to us about anything."

"_Right_," Duncan replied, sounding almost unsure of himself. 

Crandall furrowed his thick gray eyebrow and stared at his son quizzically. "If you need some money, then feel free to use my platinum Visa—"

"No! It's not that," he interjected. He looked off at the wilting sun that ducking lower under the water, which created a vibrant reflection. He could see a school of Magikarp, just beneath the surface of the ocean. "It's not about money."

His mother managed to place a hand upon her ample hip and said, "Well, Honey—what is it about?"

"I'm wondering about what I should do...as a profession."

"A profession?" they chirped. "You know very well that you do not have to work a day in your life," Crandall said. He pondered about his last statement before contradicting himself by saying, "Actually, I suppose that that would be all good and well. It would keep you busy. Don't you agree, Helen?"

"Oh yes," she said, taking a sip of her chilled margarita with a wedge of lemon and lime on the edge. "What is it that you would like to do, Honey?"

"Something that involves pokémon, to be sure!" He lowered his head. "But the problem is that...I don't know exactly what to do. I _could_ be a trainer, but I don't want to. I _could_ be a breeder, but I don't like the idea. The same goes with being a professor and a photographer. What are your suggestions?"

Swirling the transparent amber brandy, his father came to a conclusion. "A gym leader!—yes, you should be a Gym Leader!"

"Oh, yes! You have the perfect demeanor for a thing like that. You'd make a fine Gym Leader!"

"A jolly good idea, indeed; I do say. And as you know. my predictions rarely fail."

They all partook in a haughty round of laughter that could only be paralleled to the ones in the movies, like in _Ritchie Rich_. They were all laughing so hard that Duncan accidentally spilled some of his smooth unto the hardwood floor of the yacht.

"Oh, damn it!" he blasphemed as he grabbed a vacant napkin and was about to wipe up the mess.

"Language!" his mother chided. "That is common language." She leaned forward and pinched his cheek, causing it redden a bit. "And you, Honey, are _far _from common. Leave it, Duncan: the maid that we brought will clean it."

"But Mamma, it is just right there. There's no harm in wiping it—"

"_Leave it_," she snapped, her mouth pressed into a thin line. It soon conformed into a cheery smile before she added, "It seems as though you forgot that you're a Beechcombe; having been in the Institute for so long, I can very well see why you would do such a thing." She looked to her husband and they chuckled.

He did it anyways. "It's just a tiny thing. I learned how to do things on my own there. Not everyone caters to your needs."

Mr. Beechcombe raised a brow at his son; "you say this as if it is a good thing..."

Duncan remained silent.

"Anyways," his mother interjected. "Where is it that you wish to train?"

He pondered for a few seconds. The place couldn't be a rural area, much too slow. That eliminated the possibilities down to one: the city. Then, he debated over which city would be best. He figured that since he loved Meganium so much, it would only be right if he was a Grass Gym Leader. And there was that Gym in Celadon City that specialized in Grass pokémon. He made up his mind.

"Celadon City, Mamma. It would be the perfect place for me. It's a booming city, you know—full of opportunity. I could apprentice myself to the leader, and, upon reaching an advanced level, for I know so much about pokémon, I could challenge her for the rights to the Gym!"

"Splendid idea, son. It is what the French would call, "_une bonne idée."_ He let out a throaty chuckle and, _naturally_, a chorus of laughter ensued.

"Your father is such a comedian! Is he not?" Helen asked as she went into a fit of giggling.

Duncan half-smiled. _Far from it..._ "Oh, yes!"

"You could go by way of our private airplane! We could give you some money for an apartment too. Why don't you ask Madison to be your roommate in order to keep each other company? I'm sure he would agree. He must feel so restricted in that confining house of his in Pallet Town. Barely enough room to breathe, I say," Helen commented.

Duncan lightly frowned. 

"I agree with your mother, Duncan. You can fly back to Lavender Hills and pack your clothing tomorrow. I'm sure, with what limited supplies he should have, Madison would be ready by Saturday. You can leave that morning if you please."

"That would be great."

Therefore, Duncan passed the day in wonderment and by the morn, he had flew off to their lavish estate called Lavender Hills and packed his bags, totaling five in all— three were clothes, one was a box of textbooks, and the other was full of random assortments. He called his friend, he agreed, and they were off to Celadon by the next day.

But he was forgetting something...

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He didn't have a pokémon! 

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Concluding Statements: Yeah, I know. This is a slow beginning, but I had to start things off. There will be more action and everything to come. The genre will mainly be that of Action/Adventure and Romance. I've been thinking of this for a while now. I hope that you have enjoyed reading it. There's more to come...soon. I promise that it won't be boring, Please review. Thank you—The Duke of Briarcliffe


	2. Chapter First: First Impressions

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*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter First: First Impressions

Written by the Duke of Briarcliffe

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Author's Note: First and foremost, I would like to thank everyone who has read and reviewed this fanfiction. Your opinions matter greatly to me and it really helps the story—that is why it is called it constructive criticism. Well, here's the first chapter. I hope that you enjoy it.

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"Oh, My Oberon! What visions I have seen! Methinks I was enamored of an ass!" —William Shakespeare, _Titania _from _A Midsummer's Night Dream._

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Nobody in this parable was ever in love with a donkey, of that you can be _ass_ured. But, there is one ass in this story and I believe that you might know his name. He may not be one at this very instant, but he _may_ prove to be one later. Let's just call it a bit of foreshadowing.

His eardrums must have been inverted for four minutes before Duncan remembered to take one more chew of his wintergreen gum. Having lost its flavor, he grew disinterested and pristinely took the wad of gum from his mouth before delicately placing it in the aluminum wrapper, and nicely placing it into the waste compartment in the armrest.

There had to be only fifteen minutes left of the private flight. To the right of Duncan was the window. Clouds looking as puffy as a cotton ball hanging errant in between a woman's thumb and forefinger just as she decided which nail to dab first. The sky was a light shade of blue. If he leaned closer, he could see the serpentine river meandering its way through the landscape, carving gentle v-shaped valleys. To his left, across the narrow aisle was his friend Madison sitting a plush seat, bobbing his head to some random tune.

Madison was of the same age as Duncan. Rusty would be the best adjective to describe the color of his hair that was usually pulled back with a pair of titanium-framed sunglasses. Large, turquoise eyes brought emotion his face; they glinted when he was angry, faded when he was down, and twinkled when he was smiling or happy. He and Duncan were about the same height, both near 6'1", and had almost the same body structure—the difference being that Madison was a bit more streamlined and a tad lankier. 

He pulled off the headphones and turned to his friend and said, "this is so cool! I can't believe that we're going to be roomies. It's going to be like, Party Central."

Duncan grinned and added a nondescript "yeah."

Madison raised his brow; "What's up with you?"

"Nothing; nothing at all," he replied with a false grin. "I'm just too excited to say much right now is all. Don't mind me." Adding a false grin as He turned his head away from him and pretended to read a magazine—Maxim, of course. _It completely slipped from my mind! How am I suppose to capture a pokémon? _He pondered for a moment. _Well, I could ask Madison to let me borrow one of his...nah, that's out of the question. I'm supposed to stay on top of things._

"You know," Madison began, putting his headphones back on. "If you're gonna pretend to read, it would be really smart if you would turn it the right way."

"I _am_ reading, you cad," he haughtily piped as he looked at the magazine. "I am _perfectly_ aware that my magazine is the—" It _was _upside-down after all. His cheeks began to tingle.

"My point exactly," Madison smugly replied. "Duncan—buddy—I know you much too well. There's no use in even trying to those tricks of yours."

"_I_ don't know what your talking about Madison Waterflower." 

"It's Ketchum, actually. One would think that his best friend would know that he goes by Ketchum and not Waterflower by, let's see, _four_ years," he said as if he were talking to someone else.

"I did that on purpose; I know how mad it makes you," Duncan remarked with a laugh.

"Dude, don't do that. Waterflower sounds so..._girly_. Now _your_ name," he said, tilting his head, a grin on his face. "A honeycomb comes to mind."

"But my name has meaning to it. It's the name of one of our estates."

He rolled his eyes. "I must've forgotten. How stupid of me." 

"I'd say," Duncan added.

"Hush up, Honeycomb."

"After you, Waterflower."

A loud, snooty, butler-ish voice boomed over the speakers. "Young Sirs, we are now landing in the Celadon Airport. A chauffeur will escort you to the Ninetales Regents Hotel in a black limousine shortly after we land. Please hold on, there will be some friction." Could a British accent be so impeccably..._British_?

"_Young Sirs_," Madison cajoled as he fastened his belt into the silver buckle. An annoyed voice boomed once more saying, "_I heard that_." He simply shrugged his shoulders.

_This is it._

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This was his first time ever being there in Celadon. Its size was overwhelming. In a blissful stupor, he gazed relentlessly at the skyline from the oversized windows. 

The view from outside the Regents Hotel was incredible. Lustrous skyscrapers jutted from the earth, reaching towards the heavens. A flock of Pidgey dotted the horizon as they flew to their destination. The blue sky made the city feel serene. Shiny cars sped along highways and some waited at the red stoplights. People crowded the sidewalks; it was crunch time and people were hungry. Off in the distance would could see a dark building that Duncan recognized as the Radio Tower. 

"This is freaking amazing!" Madison beamed as he too became entranced with the city. They were both quite _enamored_ of it. 

"Yeah," he agreed dazedly. _And I thought that Lavender Hills was the most enchanting place in the world._

They unpacked a bit and took showers for refreshment before venturing out in the city. Duncan had always known that they key in making a good impression is to look good, so he wear a crisp white shirt with khakis and his favorite pair of Hushpuppies. 

Steam made the bathroom hazy as well as muggy. Condensation clung to the mirror too. Yet somehow, he managed to shave off the fresh stubble from the night before in the foggy bathroom. Clad in only a fluffy towel, courtesy of the Regents, he examined his physique.

_How could anyone not like me?_ He loved the definition of his broad shoulders and muscled chest and powerful tendons. Turning around, he saw how well-cut his back was and, rotating another 180 degrees, kissed his bulging bicep. _If this isn't perfection, then I don't know what is._

In case you haven't picked up on it by now, he's one of those people who are attractive and _know_ that they are. What's the term? Ah, yes; I know. _Conceited._

The only reason why he worked out was to try and impress the ladies. After all, if he was only did in flings, he had to be as _visually _appealing as the girl did. Also, although I am contradicting the former sentence, it built up his self-esteem and his confidence, as if he could _possibly _need any more.

With the flat of his thumb, he slicked off the excess water from his strong jaw line. Then, he dabbed his thick, obsidian hair with another towel. His clear violet eyes were automatically still as he applied his clarifying contacts; he suffered from astigmatism. With a sigh, he breezed out of the bathroom and began to dress upon entering his bedroom.

Fully clothed, he bumped into Madison in the sitting room. "Where are you going looking all preppy?" he asked.

"I'm going to go look around the city."

Madison just stared at him. "And? That requires dressing up?"

"You call _this _dressing up?" he asked disbelievingly. He smoothed the front of his shirt. "I think not."

Madison looked down at his own rugged blue jeans with a frayed hem and his red shirt with "**Do You See What I See?**" emblazoned on the chest area in bold white letters. "I'm blending in with the crowd. You know, being normal?"

Duncan frowned slightly. "I'm also looking for an apartment for us. I know that I'm well off but we can't stay here forever."

"Cut it," he said sharply.

"Cut what?" Duncan asked, confused.

"With the rich boy bullshit. That was high school. This is now. Nobody cares."

"Whatever," Duncan grumbled as he walked out of the door. "I'll see you this evening." _He's just jealous_. But that assumption soon went down the drain; why should he be jealous of Duncan? 

Warm air greeted him once again yet not in the same way. He coughed from the drastic change in humidity. His shirt felt clingy and he felt unclean in spite of his recent shower. He dismissed what his friend had uttered no sooner had he left the wide doors of the hotel entrance.

The giants made him feel inferior. The people were no better; they just shoved him out of their way as he aimlessly ambled down the streets. There's a rule, or at least there should be one, that states that one person does not get in the way of a person in a rush, especially if it involves food. The consequences are not desirable.

He felt alone in this pulsing wave of human bodies. 

Gradually, he reached a small building with the trademark **P** on the top. He wandered in there, his head hanging low. It had affected him much more than he'd once thought. Finding his way to the desk, he suddenly realized what his true purpose in coming here was.

"Do you know where I can find any wild Chikorita?"

The cheery Nurse Joy replied. "Yes! Carefully search the grass areas of both Johto and Kanto!"

_Gee, that helped a lot. _"I mean, are there any around here—near Celadon?"

"Yes."

_What a ditz. _In a slow voice he asked, "could you tell me _where _in Celadon?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

"Hey!" she chimed, changing the subject. "Are you a pokémon trainer? If so, are you registered? You don't look familiar...I will have to check your pokédex."

He pulled it out. He'd been given one a long time ago when he was in Pokémon Tech.

"I see," she murmered as she slowly punched in the keys of a large red machine behind the desk. On the screen was his picture as a skinny kid with glasses that made his violet eyes look like a tarsiers. "Duncan Beechcombe...hey! I've heard of you! Your family is _like_, incredibly rich!"

"Yeah," he said with a grin. _Pride. _Man, those ass-like qualities are coming into play. Pride has two meanings and there's a time and a place for both of them—well there shouldn't be one for the bad pride. "I know. But that's beside the point. Could you please tell me where I can find one?"

"Oh, that's easy. Why didn't you ask me before?"

He raised an eyebrow. "_I did."_

She shook her head. "No, I believe not."

"I did," he repeated, his eyes intense. 

"I will _not_ sit here and argue with a trainer. I don't care if you're the richest guy on the planet either," she firmly responded.

He groaned inwardly. She was wasting his time.

"You won't get anywhere with that attitude Mr. I Accuse Nurse Joy of Lying! If you just _have_ to know, just go up the street until you get to Celadon Park. They're abundant there."

Exasperated, he muttered a quick "thank-you" before hurrying to the nearest department store. He had a plan.

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A small green pokémon with a lush green leaf atop its head wandered over to the pile of Pokémon Chow that had been randomly left there. She sniffed it cautiously and, after declaring that it didn't smell dangerous, ate a crunchy morsel.

"Chickori!" she exclaimed, savoring the wonderful taste. Suddenly ravenous, she dove her head into the pile and chowed down, her violet eyes shining brightly, expressing her joy at finding this unexpected bounty. 

The food was placed directly in the sun, making it a desirable location. Feeling drowsy, she succombed to the effects of a full stomach and lied down. Her tan body rose and fell as she took deep breaths. The leaf craned towards the sunlight, giving her energy as she sunbathed.

Soon enough she fell into a blissful slumber...

Meanwhile, the young man hiding in the security of a large boulder, chuckled at his wit and cleverness. He'd done it once again. His strategic mind never failed him. With a silent cheer of "yes!" he pulled out a shiny silver and white pokéball and threw it at the snoozing Chikorita. 

She mumbled a sleep, "Chika?" as the ball hit her on her side. Too drunk with sleep, she didn't put forth any effort in retaliating. She was disoriented anyways. "_Finally! _I have a pokémon!"he cheered, upon hearing the distinct chime of a captured pokémon in its pokéball. He stroked the metallic ball with his thumb. It gleamed in the bright sunlight. It was almost too easy. "Those sleeping pills I bought really came in handy." Retrieving the ball, he strolled out of the park, a proud grin on his, and an unusual elasticity in his step...

He was feeling so good that he just had to walk back to the Pokémon Center and thank that ditzy Nurse Joy. The information she'd given him was so valuable. It had to be some of the most important information he'd ever received in his life. It would change his life.

_Everything is working out. This is so much easier than I predicted it to be; I'll be a Gym Leader in no time._

Hmmm...not quite.

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Concluding Statements: I guess that it's evident that I'll be writing short chapter. I guess that there's more suspense that way? I don't know. You tell me? So...did you enjoy it? I hope so. There'll be more on Duncan, Madison, and the poor Chikorita in the busy city of Celadon, in the next chapter. Remember to review—The Duke of Briarcliffe


	3. Chapter Second: Great Expectations

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*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Second: Great Expectations

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Written by The Duke of Briarcliffe

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Author's Notes: Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed. You know how I feel about that. Well, I guess that that is about all for now. I hope that you enjoy the chapter. —The Duke of Briarcliffe

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"I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is to try and please everyone." —Bill Cosby

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The key to success, to some people, can be summarized into just one word: _money_. And the Beechcombe family had a lot of it. Therefore, it is only reasonable that Duncan, Helen and Crandall's only child, should have the freedom to partake in spending some of it. And he did—any chance he could, by choice or not.

The young Mr. Beechcombe, upon capturing the dozing Chikorita, rushed back to the Pokémon Center. He just had to thank that klutz of a Nurse Joy for whatever assistance she provided for him. Feeling so engulfed in fortune, he threw open the door and scurried over to the desk. Yet surprisingly, nobody was there.

There were a few random trainers lounging on the sofas, looking up at an economy-size TV that was mounted to the wall. The room itself was large and clean. The white linoleum was ornamented with the Oddish family evolutions; it glistened too. The walls were painted a serene blue, dappled with white, as was the soft green that they were also painted, on adjoining walls. Portraits of famous trainers who had once passed through hung on the wall; black marker looped around the bottom—their signatures.

Duncan looked around frantically, not seeing a trace of the trademark, bright pink hair of Nurse Joy. He scratched his head in bewilderment. Even the plump Blissey also was nowhere to be found. 

He sighed as he leaned up against the counter, a casual pose, and pulled the pokéball from his pocket. A lazy smile spread across his lips as he admired once again his prowess and intelligence. 

Feeling so proud of himself, he fashioned that he should make the pokéball into some sort of necklace—like the one Drake had in the Pummelo Stadium—and where it at all times. It couldn't be that expensive. Hell, he could probably make it himself.

The clickety-clack of low-heeled shoes sounded as a young woman walked to behind the large counter and placed a heavy-looking tray of pokéballs onto it. Then, she separated them by nametag and called over to the trainers by way of a microphone.

"Would Allison, George, and Bert please collect their pokémon? They have now been healed." Then, wiping her eyes, she began to leave. But Duncan's voice stopped her.

"Hello. Would you happen to know where Nurse Joy is, by chance?" he asked in an easygoing manner, a bit businesslike if you ask me—but you didn't.

The young woman whirled around to face him. "_Everybody_ knows that Nurse Joy goes out for lunch around this time. She'll be back in two hours." She raised a brow. "Who are you?"

"_Beechcombe_. Duncan _Beechcombe_," he suavely replied.

She just rolled her eyes at him. "That helped a lot. Are you a trainer or something?"

He was shocked. "You mean that you don't know who I am?" His eyebrows were knit together in disbelief.

"I haven't a clue," she said nonchalantly, _as if _it didn't matter. She placed a hand on her hip and asked him, "what—am I supposed to?"

He shook his head. "No, no. It's just odd that you don't. Have you ever heard of the Beechcombe Company? You know, the makers of the designer pokéballs—"

She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, it does ring a bell. _Oh, I know: _they're ones who make useless products that empties the trainer's pockets and they're driving other companies out of business. Pretty soon, it'll be a monopoly."

"I know," he boasted. "Isn't that just wonderful?" Then he realized her former statement. "_Hey!"_

She just huffed and walked away, her feet echoing as she advanced down a long corridor that led to a large metal door. She flung open the door and stormed inside.

He raised his eyebrow as he watched her retreating figure. _What's her problem?_ Subsequently, he shrugged his shoulders and he walked out the door. Nurse Joy wasn't worth waiting for after all.

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Polished hardwood floors were laid throughout the spacious apartment. The walls were a mellow beige in the kitchen. There was a smooth counter that ran around ¾ of the kitchen—a built-in dishwasher, washer, and dryer hidden within the reccesses of the cabinets. A silver range was stuck in between two parts of the counter.

In the living room, the walls were a gleaming white. One large, and long, window practically covered an entire wall, allowing an incredible view of Lavender City and of the ocean—the loft being located in Southern Celadon. Sunlight streamed through, illuminating the entire room.

Going up a short flight of stairs, Madison advanced towards the bedrooms. There were two in the whole apartment and he wanted to claim one as soon as possible,without Duncan being there.

Here's the deal. Soon after Duncan went out of the house, a messenger of some sort came up to the hotel room. Madison answered the door and the man presented to him two keys, a telegram, and directions on how to get to the building where it was located.

He'd rushed out of the hotel, now having something to do, and waited at a corner for a bus to come. He didn't feel like wasting ten dollars by catching a taxi. He already had limited funds, Ms. Waterflower could only afford to give him so much, and it would be superfluous to go by taxi than to go by the bus.

A half-hour later, he'd arrived on Bijou Boulevard and walked for at least twenty minutes before approaching a large apartment building that reflected the image of the sun. Those Beechcombes only accepted the very best.

In the lobby, he'd tramped on a carpeted floor up to the elevator. People with thick moustaches and designer suits scrunched up their noses as they scrutinized the message on his t-shirt. He smiled in satisfaction.

The loft was on the tenth floor: the very top. And that's basically it.

He choose the largest room that held the best view of the surrounding area. It was painted a masculine sort of green—his favorite color. It also had the largest closet, not that he needed it. He just wanted to limit his friend.

_I should've know that they would have done this. They're always doing everything for him. They need to just let him live his life the way he wants to... He probably does like it this way. If he only knew how it is..._

Ash and Misty had split twelve years ago, when Madison was five and his baby sister, Ashley, was just an infant. The marriage had been rocky after Madison was born. Ash was always off training, winning badges or leagues while Misty stayed home and took care of the children. 

He was the apple of Madison's eye. To him, Ash was practically a _god_—so high in his graces that he belived that he could do no wrong. But he did, and it hurt him and his mother tremendously. 

Once, when he and Misty had broken up—they'd broken up so many times before and after they married—Ash did something incredibly erroneous. Feeling sad and needing someone to talk to, he'd called his long-time friend, Melody from Shamouti Island, over to his temporary lodging because Misty had kicked him out. And, to make things short and concise, one thing led to another and one day and nine months later Madison's half-brother, Ashton Jr., was born. Misty was kept in the dark for five years. Then came the day when Melody brought her child along to tell the truth, she'd felt so horrible about it all. A _melée_ practically ensued. They divorced and Misty kept the children. Madison didn't see his father again until he was thirteen, just received the occasional letter on his birthday and on Christmas.

The memory plagued his mind. It filled his thoughts endlessly. He wished that he hadn't been born so that none of this would have happened; so that they still would be together, happily married. Naturally he didn't let it show. Being reputed as the cool, down-to-earth type meant that he had to maintain that outward composure. The only person who knew of this information was Duncan and his family.

The Beechcombes offered assistance to Misty. Every year for five years they sent her one thousand dollars to help out with the children. Madison and Ashley were growing up so fast. Clothing was a neccessity in their household. And they needed toys too. But one day, Misty became fed up with their act of kindness and of charity. Pity was something she disliked and she despised herself for having let herself accept it. Consequently, she insisted that she make ends meet herself.

There was a subtle change in feeling amongst the Beechcombes and the Ketchum-Waterflower family. The Beechcombes alleged that Misty didn't know good help when she saw it; and Misty thought of them as snooty people who thought that money solves everything. They seldom spoke except on the major holidays and on birthdays.

Looking to the ocean, Madison grinned as he thought of the snug cottage that they lived in next to Bill's house on Cerulean Lake. He loved the way that Magikarp and Goldeen swam near the edge of the water, eating algae and the random moth or dragonfly. He liked the was that the Stantler drank their fill every morning. And he missed seeing Misty swim and play with her pokémon, in spite of her age, with Ashley not far behind.

He knew that Ash lived in a cabin near Silver Mountain. Sometimes, during the summer and spring recess he and his sister would go and stay with him for the allowed weeks. They weren't that close, Ash was always off training in the forest, but they were civil. Madison was glad that he looked like his mother because if he had Ash's face, he would be the embodiment of him, of that human weakness, that caused the marriage to fail. Madison would try to make conversation with his father, but his answers were brief. His eyes were hollow, void of all feeling that they once contained. 

Pikachu and his other pokémon still resided with him. They were out of their pokéballs all of the time. Madison liked them all, especially his Croconaw. _The Joy of Water Pokémon_ had been inherited from his mother. 

Ashley was more like Ash than Madison was, in spite of the fact that she had barely known him before. She had the same unruly black hair, which was usually kept in a ponytail, and the same hyper attitude when anything that involved pokémon was of concern. But she was the _tiniest _person that Madison knew. She clocked in at around 4'11". He loved his sister very much.

As for Ash Jr., he came at times to the cabin. Madison didn't like him. He was the spitting image of Ash down to the shiny ebony eyes. He was taller than Ash by a few inches and about the same height as Madison. They were both easygoing too. Yet, Madison hated him. Being the product of lust and causing contempt in the family, how could he have felt any other way? Didn't he hold the right to feel that way?

With all of this reminiscing, Madison suddenly felt homesick. His mother and sister were on his mind. He sped to the nearest phone booth. The phone hadn't been activated yet.

****

*~*

The message that all of his luggage had been relocated to the Loft had been administered to Duncan once he made it to the reception desk in the hectic lobby. As a result, he hopped into the nearest yellow taxi and went off. His parents were the coolest. 

He immediately took a liking to the huge apartment and was partially disappointed when he found that Madison had claimed the master bedroom for his own; yet, despite all of this, he was much too jovial to let that ruin his day. He just had to open his pokéball. Furnishing the apartment, or even eating, could wait until later.

"Hey Waterflower, come over here," he beckoned, waving his hand in the air. 

Madison came from the white refrigerator, a Pepsi in his hand. He took a long swig before crushing the can and tossing it into a vacant wastebasket in the corner of the room. "What, dude?"

"Look what I have," he exclaimed as he pulled out the gold-and-silver pokéball from his pocket. He looked like a drooling baby over there with that stupid grin on his face.

Madison looked on blankly. "Uh...nice pokéball. Did your mother design that one or something?"

"Yeah," he admitted with a thoughtful nod before getting back to what he intended to say. "But that's not the point. It's what is in it that matters."

"An instruction guide? I mean, it can't be _that_ hard. All you have to do is enlarge it and throw it at the weakened pokémon. I've done it before. You should have asked me. No wait! You went to Pokémon Tech for—"

"For crying out loud, Madison. That's not what I'm talking about."

He complacently shrugged his shoulders. "Well get to the point. I don't feel like solving riddles and I'm sick of sitting on this damn floor. My ass must be in a coma."

Duncan groaned. "I have a pokémon."

"That's _great_." His tone was a bit sarcastic much to Duncan's dismay. Genuinely feeling a_ tad _hurt, he placed his friend's feelings before his own thoughts. "Can I see it?"

He happily enlarged the ball and said, "I choose you."

The Chikorita, now fully awake, shuddered. It was cool in there. She looked around her surroundings and pawed at the slippery floor. She spun around to look up at the looming figures above her. Disgust seeped into her veins like the venom from the most dangerous of serpents, filling every nook and cranny in her little body.

"Isn't she cute?"

Madison examined the little pokémon. "_'Isn't she cute?' _Duncan, the question is, 'isn't she angry?' Don't you see her baring her teeth at you?"

He scrunched up his nose. "I don't why she's angry. All that I did was capture her. No big deal."

His friend slapped him upside his head, messing up his spiky 'do. "No big deal. No big deal? Are you nuts?"

"_Waterflower_," he said, emphasizing it. "Of course not. Why'd you do that? It's all messed up now."

"How did you capture her?"

"I lured her with some food that I added some sleeping aids to, and then captured her whilst she was asleep."

"Now that's low."

The whole time, Chikorita had listened intently. She grew more infuriated at every exchange. She was brimming over in the rage, steam had already condensed from this pot of boiling water.

"At least I captured her. It's all that matters now." Then, he stooped down, a friendly smile displayed on his face. He pinched her cheek. "You don't mind if I call you Nasturtium, do you?"

She trembled with ferocity, her purple eyes glinting in anger. That was it. Her head spasmodically began to twitch. "Chico, chica? Rita chico! [Do I mind? _Do I mind! _I'm going to kill you!]" she shouted. Plunging headfirst into Duncan's sturdy abdomen, she sent him skidding across the ground, which caused him to hit his head up against the wall.

"Chi! [Ah!]"—a battle cry. She extended two bright green vines with round buds at the end from her sparkling bead necklace and fired them at Duncan. After coiling around his feet, with a mighty tug she dragged him into yet another wall. 

"Nasturtium, stop it this instant!"

"Ta? Chi-chi! [_Never!_]" The vines bound his arms and his waist together and she squeezed as hard as she could—until he began to turn a delicate shade of lilac.

Then, not wanting to actually kill him—he wasn't worth it—she let him go. He fell into a tangled heap. Bright red lacerations shone from his bright tan skin, his breaths hard and labored. 

"Duncan, are you all right?" Madison asked as he stooped down to help him up to his feet.

Duncan deprecatingly smiled. "AT least we know that she isn't weak."

"Honeycombe, you make a joke after she just whooped your ass? You need help."

Her rapid boil now coming down to a calm simmer, Nasturtium sauntered up to her trainer and stared at him insolently. She noticed that their eyes were exactly the same shade, but that didn't matter right then. She didn't want to be associated with him in any way. So, she cleared her throat and spat right onto his Hushpuppies. "Chikorita chi. [I'll _never_ forgive you.]," she growled. She turned away and walked over to her fallen pokéball. By depressing the rigid button, the pokéball's energy consumed her and she went far away from reality.

He shrugged indifferently and said, " You just wait until tomorrow morning_. _She'll get iver it. _You'll _see."

Madison stared at his friend in wonderment. _How clueless can a person be! Will he ever learn? _He walked away to his bedroom and took out his own three pokéballs. He marvelled over what they contained. Now that was hard work, something Duncan would soon grow accustomed to. And Nasturtium would be the very best of teachers...

****

*~*

Concluding Statements: There! I've finished yet another chapter. I hope that you enjoyed it. Please remember to review. I want your input. Oh and if you want an original trainer of your own creation to appear in this fanfiction, feel free to include the information in your review. Sincerely—The Duke of Briarcliffe.


	4. Chapter Third: Great Expectations II

*~***The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training***~*

Chapter Third: Great Expectations II

****

Written by the Duke of Briarcliffe

*~*

Author's Note: All right, here's the new chapter. For those of you who were wondering when Duncan would finally go to the Gym, then today's your lucky day because he will be. I'm sorry if you felt that the previous chapters were a bit superfluous but I, as a writer, thought that building up the characters would be most effective before actually delving into the plot. Our opinions may very on that subject. Well, I hope that you like this. —The Duke of Briarcliffe

****

*~*

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife."—Jane Austen, authoress of the novel _Pride and Prejudice_

*~*

Well, in this case, the single man, Duncan Beechcombe, _was_ in possession of a _great_ fortune and _was_ not in want of a wife, or _even_ a steady girlfriend for that matter. However, he _was_ in want of an apprenticeship to the Celadon Gym Leader. And he _was_ in want of a future as a Gym Leader. And, although he didn't _outwardly _admit it, he was _desperately_ in want of some sort of control over his Chikorita, Nasturtium.

The morning after his ass kicking, Duncan awoke as the steady sunbeams poured over his room. Spilling its essence onto him and making him quite warm. Raising up, a sudden pain shot through his backside, and he recollected that he had slept the night through on the hardwood floor. And well...you can imagine how that might feel. The only time he'd done that was when he slept over Madison's house as a child.

He delicately rubbed the areas of his elbows. The skin had been lacerated by the thick green vines and still was chafed and red. His stomach hurt still: Nasturtium had really knocked the wind out of him with that tackle attack. His ankles were no better; he thought he couldn't walk anymore. All in all, she'd inflicted a good amount of damage. Enough to convince him that he hadn't caught the wrong Chikorita, yet enough to influence him to deduce that it would take a while to get through to her.

Reluctant to actually release her again, he contented himself with just staring at the pokéball. The sunlight did a really good job in making it look like a divine object. Mrs. Beechcombe really knew how to make something look appealing to the eye. He chuckled to himself, having not talked to them since his arrival in Celadon.

Deciding that there was no time like the present, he emerged from the pallet of blankets in order to get ready for the day. He planned on making a trip to Celadon Gym and chatting with the Leader, in hopes of scoring an apprenticeship. It was the daily plan.

The warm temperature of the water that stemmed from the silver showerhead felt good to the body. It warmed him down to his feet as he washed away the grime of yesterday's stroll through the City. After brushing his teeth and doing every other morning necessity, he began to sort through his bags for something to wear.

He figured that it would be some sort of class, so he should wear something like her wore the other day. Presentation is key in almost any circumstance. So, with his travel iron, he rubbed over the garments and put them on. He grabbed the immobile sphere and placed it into the pocket of his cargo pants, for he'd not the chance to buy a band for the necklace.

Heading downstairs, he came upon his friend, who was as much awake as himself and drinking another Pepsi. Madison rolled his eyes upon receiving his friend and asked him, "When will you ever learn?"

Duncan shrugged. "It's a class," he said matter-of-factly.

Madison nodded, not wanting to ruin his friend's confidence in what it was when he, having been the son of a Gym Leader, knew everything that could possibly concern a Gym. There are some things that one just has to learn on his/her own. Why stop him now?

"So," Madison casually said, "you're finally going to the Gym?"

"Finally? Waterflower, we've only been here for a day. And yes, I am." He peered into the fridge and frowned upon seeing that the only things there were a six-pack of Pepsi and a six-pack of Vanilla Coke. "We need some food."

"Tell me about it," Madison agreed. He absently tugged at the end of his white t-shirt that read **Virgin Mobile: I'm Cheap and I'm Easy**. "I haven't seen any grocery stores around."

Duncan squinted at the bright red lettering and the cell-phone with the blue background. "Where do you find those?"

"Random, at the Cerulean Mall. You know... where everything isn't Armani Exchange? It's the best store in the world." 

Part of Duncan's right lips went up higher than the left as he said, "I know where Random is and no, everything I own isn't from Armani Exchange...Structure and the Gap are just as fine."

Throwing his hands up in defeat he declared that was the typical prep and walked to the door that led to the outside hallway. "While I'm out I'll get some grub. Won't say that it'll be _groceries_, but there'll be food here. And, why don't you get a phone while you're out?"

With that said, he pulled open the door and left the loft, leaving Duncan to his own devices. Deciding that Pepsi isn't the best breakfast food, Duncan soon left the apartment.

It was pretty early, maybe 8:47 or so, yet he still pushed on. Who knows? It might've taken him hours just to find the Gym and it wasn't like he had anything better to do than wander around the streets in an attempt to find it. Firstly he needed to find a bus schedule or a map.

He looked around the city. The random convertible or station wagon sped by, probably people rushing to the jobs that they were already late for. A Spearow stood sentinel on top of a streetlight, scanning the environment for a little rat or some other morsel to feed on. The little shops on Bijou Boulevard were beginning to open up shop, turning the closed signs to the open side and flicking on the light switches. The smell of perfume was suspended in the air, almost overpowering in a sense. The scent produced from the various varieties was a sweet one. Duncan believed that if the creators could somehow capture this one scent, it would be of constant demand.

An odd scent at the corner made his nose twitch in curiosity. It was familiar. As he neared the shop, it soon became clear. It was a coffee shop named Café au Lait. He strolled in automatically, drawn to it.

It was small and had the homey feel to it that attracted people from all places to it. Large glass windows lined two of the walls. Chestnut brown couches and armchairs were placed against the windows; cherry oak coffee tables were set in between the chairs. A young boy and a young girl played checkers in one. At the vertex, the corner, where the two walls met was where the beverages were served. Steam billowed from the canisters. The air smelled of vanilla flavoring.

Sitting himself on a cushioned metal stool, he waited to be assisted. In little crates there were raspberry-orange scones and blueberry muffins. In tall glass canisters, there were chocolate biscotti and jelly beans—all of which looked completely appetizing. 

A young woman with a black apron on yelled over to another person, a guy with orange hair. "Could you hurry up, Todd? My shift is almost over and I have to go drop off James. I just have to serve this guy right here." Then, she rushed over and asked him what he would like.

"A French vanilla latté, please," Duncan replied.

"Coming right up," she answered. In one fluid movement, she swept up a insolated cup with the Café au Lait insignia on it and placed it under a faucet that streamed out the opaque liquid. Then, twirling the vanilla flavoring she was a bartender, she pushed the nozzle and the flavor was squirted into the cup. She slammed it down onto the counter and told him the price. He delved into his wallet and produced a five, and she hurriedly gave him the change.

Then, she rushed out of the store, hanging up her apron and hat on a hook near the door. Duncan regarded her figure as she retreated and wondered who James was and why she was in such a hurry to drop him off wherever it was that he had to be dropped off at. He shrugged his shoulders and removed himself from the seat, and walked from the door.

****

*~*

Celadon Gym had been vastly renovated since the devastating fire a few decades ago. The blazing inferno had completely destroyed the grassy are that was the arena, damaged textbooks, and ruined the stores of unique perfumes. The gym now took on a greenhouse persona, but the difference is that, you can't see into it, but from the inside, you can see out of it. There were three separate zones: the deciduous forest area, the tropical forest area, and an area especially devoted to flowers and other plants that could be used for medicines. It was located in the North Bubble. Basically, it was a large dome with four smaller, yet still proportionally large, domes branching off of it. In the East Bubble, the perfume was made and it where the pokémon were kept. The Leader's office was there also. In the South Bubble, there were the classrooms. And in the West Bubble, there was the exercise room. The middle dome, called the Atrium, was where the Gym Matches and some of the classes were held, as well as the personnel.

Duncan strode through the automatic doors and to the large counter where the receptionist resided. From what he could see, she had on a tan vest with a green t-shirt; the name Rebecca was embroidered on the left chest-pocket. Short brown hair fell to her shoulders. She smacked loudly on some gum as she watched TV through her portable television. She barely noticed that Duncan was standing there. 

"Hello."

No response; just incessant smacking.

"Hello?"

Still no response.

"Hello! Miss!"

She jumped up like ten feet into the air and clutched her heart. Her breath frantic, she asked, "What do y—_Welcome_ to the Celadon City Gym. I'm Rebecca, how may I help you?" Her voice was much too pristine and chipper.

"That's more like it," Duncan grumbled before he too perked up and said. "I would like to meet the Gym Leader."

She stared blankly at him. Then she performed a gesture with her hand going up in the air and that involved her shaking her head. He was a bit confused so he remained silent.

"_Well?"_

He frowned. "Well, what?"

She groaned. "You must not be from around here." Then, in a deliberately slow voice she explained: "Here in Celadon City we have two Gym Leaders. Well, not exactly. But it is run by a mother and her daughter. The mother is named Erika and she's been the primary Gym Leader for many years, ever since she was twenty. She mainly just teaches the work that involves books. Her daughter, Aerin, is the official Gym Leader. She handles all of the matches and the physical side of the classes. Now," she said, leaning forward to look him in the eyes. "Who do you want to see?"

"I'm want to obtain an apprenticeship."

She quirked a brow. _He definitely isn't around here. Nobody talks like that._ Her eyes scanned his studious attire, from the crisp shirt to the un-scuffed shoes, minus that dark stain in the middle. _And nobody dresses like that either. _

Her perusal of him in the way that she was doing it made him feel positively uncomfortable. He unconsciously tensed up and his ears felt like they were on fire. The fire was beginning to spread towards his cheeks when someone intervened.

"Rebecca! Why are you staring at him like that?" The voice was decidedly soft and feminine. And she didn't sound that young but not too old: middle-aged, probably in the mid-forties. Duncan turned around to face the source of the voice. Relief flooded through his body. 

The woman smiled, a cheeky smile. Her cheeks glowed, showing that she was healthy. A bright pink headband shone like a golden halo—meaning that she was an angel. She had such a positive aura about herself. Her hair was still dark blue, cobalt blue, and not gray. She was kind of tall, about 5'8" or so and she donned a pair of khaki chinos and a tan vest much like Rebecca's.

"Mrs. Watercress! I didn't know that you were there!"

She grinned sweetly. "If you're going to flirt, then stop being so forward about it."

"Me? Flirt with him?" she bit out. "I'm sorry Mrs. Watercress but he is _not _my type."

"That's what they all say, Rebecca. That's what they all say," she repeated. Then she turned to Duncan. "What brings a handsome young man like yourself here?"

"Oh, hi," he said, scratching his head. He extended his hand. "I'm Duncan Beechcombe and I'm here to ask if I can study under you."

She touched her heart. "Really? I'm honored that you would choose to come here out of all the other Gyms. Tell me now, what is your purpose in this, Duncan?"

"I would like to become a Grass Pokémon Gym Leader. And, in order to become one of the best, one has to train under the best. And I here, that you're the best Gym Leader around here."

"Well said, Duncan. I'm impressed that you called me the best, but really, my daughter, Aerin, is much better. I'm past my prime as far as pokémon training goes." She smiled self-deprecatingly.

"Of course you aren't Mrs. Watercress. A fine wine only gets better with age," he replied.

"I'm touched. You know just what to say. I think that I wouldn't mind having you as a student. But, unfortunately, today's the day when Aerin takes over."

"Oh."

"Don't be discouraged. You just have to fill out a few forms for me and give me a down payment for your enrollment. After that, you can go to the Atrium and meet my daughter. I'll be right back."

She then disappeared behind a corner, leaving Duncan all alone. He found his way to a chair and sat there, twiddling his thumbs. A smug smile displayed on his face, he looked around the room. Rebecca was staring at him with her eyes narrowed. 

"Suck up," she grumbled as she busied herself with some paperwork behind the counter. A tendril of hair peeked over her head as she let out a loud sigh.

He rolled his eyes. _She wouldn't know about student material if it kicked her in the ass_. He quickly canceled that assumption upon the remembrance of last night when _his _ass was kicked—by a pokémon, by a Chikorita—by _Nasturtium_. His heart raced.

Moments later, Erika strode into the personnel room and gave him a manila portfolio with his name on the tab in a thick permanent marker. He quickly filled out the sheets with a provided pen and paid all of the fees in full with his debit card. It came to about $375 in all.

"Well," she gasped, surprised that he had paid the fees automatically, as if it didn't matter. It didn't. He was just _so_ wealthy, after all. "I'll lead you to the Atrium. Follow me, young man."

He stood up and followed her. They passed long windows that contained replicas of various grass pokémon and of the different perfumes and colognes that the Gym manufactured. The walls were lime green on one side and blue on the other. When they arrived at the Atrium, Duncan found that the walls were pink and yellow—_very_ girly. 

There, in a small circle, was a group of young people. All of them were females. And they were all chatting freely. The colors of their hair reminded Duncan of the rainbow—red, orange, yellow, green, violet, and blue. It made him feel a _bit _uncomfortable knowing that he was the only guy.

As if on cue, every head in the room turned to face him, like they were all Hoot-Hoots. Their intense looks made him feel like he was in seventh grade again. All of those eyes upon him at once; it was enough to make anyone feel awkward. 

"Hey girls," Erika said cheerfully. "You all have a new friend. His name is Duncan Beechcombe." No reply. "Don't all say hello at once, it might be overwhelming to him." Silence. "Aerin Watercress! I've taught you better than that. Now what do you say when there's someone new?"

"_Mom!_" a young woman cried. She sighed as she got up from her place on the springy grass turf, her head down. She was only about 5'5", average height. Her hair was the same cobalt blue as her mothers, as were her eyes. It tumbled down to well past her shoulders; a silver barrette shined brightly in the sun that was visible through the glass roof. On her slim body was a pair of faded overalls and a small baby-tee under that. "Hi, I'm Aerin. Welcome to Celadon Gym." She lifted her head to face him, a tinge of scarlet blooming in her cheek.

"I'm Duncan, pleased to meet you."

He observed the little group until his eyes fell onto a pair of girls that were giggling their little hearts out. Another girl smirked out loud and shook her head. He recognized her. She was the girl from the Pokémon Center. _What could she be doing here?_

Erika backed away. "Make him feel at home, girls."

"Bye Mrs. Watercress," the chimed sweetly.

Once she was gone, Aerin hurriedly sat down. She patted the ground beside her. "Make yourself at home, we're just talking about our pokémon. Take a seat." She was nice enough, unlike the others.

He half-smiled.

"Oh, you better get him a seat. He's too _good _to sit down on the grass," the girl from the Pokémon Center told Aerin. Her hair was the color of honey. Two massively curly tendrils of hair framed her heart-shaped face. Her teal eyes glinted as a snarl curled on her lips. Her skin look soft and tan, although not the color tan one would get from the Sun.

"Yeah," another girl with red hair joined in. "Wouldn't want to ruin those shoes or those khakis with a grass stain."

He suddenly felt _very_ self-conscious. His cheeks went from lukewarm to hot as insults were piled up into a heap. He wanted to leave. People were no different here than they were while he was in school. 

"Enough, girls! Look, you're making him blush. Come on Imagen, how would you feel if you were new?" Aerin defended him. Duncan's heart welled with relief.

Imagen, the blonde, sneered at him. "Look who's blushing now, Aerin."

Aerin cheeks flushed an even deeper red. "_Imagen,_" she growled. "Come on Duncan, take a seat. Don't mind Imagen, she's a bitch." She grinned. "I'm just kidding, Imagen; but you can be at times."

"Whatever, Aerin," she said in a mock-angry voice.

He reluctantly sat down on the ground. He should've taken Madison's advice after all. The khakis were not a good choice. 

"So," Aerin began. "Where's your pokémon?"

"Yeah," all of the girls joined in.

"He probably doesn't even have one," Imagen grumbled as she folded her arms in disgust.

"Do you two know each other?"

"He was at the Pokémon Center yesterday, looking for Nurse Joy. He probably just wanted to brag about his family to her because that's what he did with me," she responded.

"I wasn't—"

"You were," she interrupted.

"I _do_ have a pokémon. A _great _pokémon," he defended himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the gold and silver pokéball. 

"That's just the ball," Imagen said, unaffected. "Now show us the pokémon."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Gladly." With that he said_—"Pokéball, go!"_—and the ball fell in front of him. It opened.

But nothing was there.

A chorus of laughter ensued. Even Aerin couldn't help but join in.

"_Pitiful_," Imagen said.

****

*~*

Concluding Statements: So, did you enjoy this chapter? I'm sorry this wasn't as funny in the last, but I had to get the introduction over with. If you want to, you can give me the names of the girls and their pokémon in your reviews. That would help a lot. Remember, they all have to be grass pokémon too. (In a dramatic, announcer's voice) Where's Nasturtium? Will Duncan ever fit in? Find out in the next chapter of _The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training! _ —The Duke of Briarcliffe


	5. Chapter Fourth: Persuasion

****

*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Fourth: Persuasion

****

Written by The Duke of Briarcliffe

*~*

"Half the world is composed of idiots, the other half of people clever enough to take indecent advantage of them." —Walter Kerr

****

*~*

The night was as clear as the day. A cool breeze that started from the heavens swept across the landscapes, weaving in between the apartment buildings and causing the flimsy trees to sway, as if praising to some unknown deity. The billowing clouds seemed to form a halo around the large, full moon. Around the glowing moon was perfect darkness, a serene indigo. The moonbeams seemed to make everything sparkle with magical moon-dust as it kissed the surfaces. The mini suns twinkled.

The green grass crunched as it gave way to Nasturtium's weight while she walked along the flower garden. A species of the climbing morning glory, the moonflower, craned its neck to the moon, receiving what little light it could. The heavy aroma of English roses tickled her nose as she wandered deeper. She was expecting someone.

When she approached the clearing—a neat thicket in between a cylindrical rhododendron bush—she found that he was there, waiting for her as if he knew that she was coming. His head was to the sky, his bright red eyes gleaming. 

Excitement flooded through her body. She was just so happy to see him after they'd been separated as they were. She rushed over to him, crystalline tears forming in the ducts. "Chico!" she cried.

"Chica! Chicory, cha-cha," he murmured in reply as he advanced towards her. They nuzzled their tiny noses and brushed up against one another, in the Chikorita fashion.

"Chikorita?" he asked.

She looked down to the ground and sniffed. "Rita chi ca," she spat out as she stamped her pointy foot on the soft ground. "Cha, chica!" She extended her budded vines, which met his halfway, and clasped him.

He agreed. "Chica, cha-cha!" he happily said. And, their vines intertwined, they walked out of the thicket and through the rest of the flower garden. 

There were other pokémon up and about. A calmed Hoot-Hoot hooted off in the distance, a solemn call that made a steady rhythm. The frenzied Rattata scurried about; the process of begging and scavenging was a never-ending one. And other enamored pokémon were with their sweethearts, enjoying the tranquil bliss for as long as they could.

Along the way while Nasturtium and Jonquil were walking, Jonquil gathered a cluster of holly and adorned upon his sweethearts head a crown of compact berries. She smiled sweetly as she bore the weight of the gift. The night was starting to dissipate and she knew that, although she hated him, she was obligated to be there for her trainer.

She stepped aside; "Chikorita," she said. "Re, chi-cha." She then stepped forward, "Cha?" Her eyes were big, hopeful orbs of violet. 

"Cha," was his reply. He came closer to her and embraced her as best as he could. They stayed in that position for a long while, neither wanting to pull away. But one of them had to be strong, or else they would never part. "Chikorita!" Nasturtium cried, fat tears welling in her eyes, blurring her superb vision. She averted her stance and, blinking out the tears, dashed out of the flower garden, leaving Jonquil there all alone. "Chico!" he called after her. She was already at the park's entrance.

****

*~*

There was a distinct click on the hardwood floor in the wee hours of the morning. Duncan was by no means a light sleeper but he'd been on edge the whole day. He'd been humiliated. And, to make things worse—and I am by no means, sexist—he'd been humiliated in front of a bunch of _girls_. _ And_, to make things _even_ worse than that, he'd been bested by that mean girl, Imagen.

There were three women on his mind. Naturally, Nasturtium had invaded his thoughts. Perhaps she did make him her bitch by beating him up, but he still felt something for her. He was only obligated to care about her welfare. Who knew where she could've gone? (**L.**augh **O.**ut **L.**oud—you do. It's a literary technique called dramatic irony.) But his mother had always told him that good things always come back to you; so, taking heed to her words of wisdom, he didn't search for her. The next woman on his mind was Aerin Watercress. He'd noticed how she looked at him at the Gym; the rose blooming on her cheek was enough. And surprisingly, Imagen too was on his mind. How could he forget her?

He bolted upright, the think blankets of his neat pallet cascading down to his waist. His forehead was damp and his breathing a bit labored. He must've just had some sort of nightmare. Taking in a deep breath of air, he peeled the blankets from the rest of his body and stood up. Then, with tiny steps he advanced towards the door of his room.

Turning the crystal handle, he pushed the door ajar and looked around the hallway. It was dark. Well, naturally it would be. They had no nightlight. Excuse the former statement. His vision still blurred with sleep, he yawned as he tottered across the floor and down the steps to the fridge.

Pulling open the door, the bright white light illuminated the room. A searing pain shot through his eyes. He winced. After that, with the purple and green dots having disappeared, he grabbed a carton of milk and began to chug it—suddenly thirsty. So parched was he that a dollop of the creamy substance oozed down his chin and tickled his smooth, bare chest. He unconsciously wiped his mouth with his forearm in spite of what his mother had always told him.

A round figure bumped into his leg. "Chi-cha-chi. [Move out of the way,]" Nasturtium scoffed as she grabbed the milk carton with her vines and gave it a shake. "Cha. [Inconsiderate bastard,]" she bit out through clenched teeth. Tossing the milk into the bullet trashcan, she rummaged in the crisper section and pulled out an Anjou pear. Smiling, she munched on it ravenously.

Duncan stood there in awe. He was glad that she was there, but he was awe-stricken at how she just ruled over him. Believe me, when she said move in that tone, he moved—quickly. He needed some control.

"Nasturtium," he said authoritatively. "Where have you been?" 

She lifted one eye and mumbled something indistinct. As if he would comprehend it anyways.

"You are not supposed to sneak out of your pokéball. I needed you today and you failed me. It's because of you that I was made a fool of in front of all those girls."

_As if _he wasn't _already_ one to begin with.

Growing agitated he asked, "Would you at least look me in the eye?"

She finished the pear and turned to face him. "Ta?"

"Thank you," he remarked. He took a deep breath. "Why are you being so difficult, Nasturtium? We're supposed to be a team. You know, a—"

"[I know what a team is. And I do not want to be a part of one that involves you. So leave me alone.]" She bumped the door to the fridge, causing it to shut. Darkness prevailed. 

"_Do not _cut me off! If there's one thing that I hate, then that it being cut off."

"[Well I hate being owned by you. So there—we're equal.]" She pushed past him, brushing against his leg once more. Her feet clicked across the hardwood in floor.

Duncan groaned as he trudged behind her. The battle was already lost. There was no point in persisting: all efforts were right then declared futile. He was better off just sleeping it off. But, upon his arrival at his pallet, Nasturtium was already snuggled deep within its warmth. He smiled, maybe it was his chance to bond with her. He proceeded forward and tugged the blankets ever so slightly. She rolled over, a fiery look in her eyes, and his hope vanished into thin air. He walked over to the long window and reluctantly snoozed in the corner.

****

*~*

Duncan and Nasturtium ambled down Bijou Boulevard until Duncan, feeling as if this would soon be a daily routine, stopped at Café au Lait and went inside. Nasturtium grudgingly accompanied him and decided to nap under the stool while he drunk his fill.

Once again, the same young woman waited on him. "What would you like?" she asked.

"A French vanilla latté," he replied. "And a wild berry muffin, please."

She pressed her mouth into a line. "Hey," she said, perking up and looking him full in the eyes. Her face scrunched up. "You ordered that yesterday," she slowly uttered.

It was Imagen.

"Duncan," she growled. "I can't believe that I didn't recognize your voice from the Pokémon Center and from yesterday. What are _you _doing here?"

He wasn't going to be put down again. Yesterday he'd been ousted and he wasn't sure of his pride, or rather, his ego, could stand yet another blow. It was time to bite back. "It's a free country; I have the right to drink lattés wherever I please."

She narrowed her eyes. "But I think it's more than that. I think that you're just trying to irritate me. Hell, I don't even know why I'm having a conversation with you."

"The last time I checked," he said, leaning forward. "And your nametag says it too—you work here. So you _have_ to talk to me."

"Not like this, I don't," she retorted. She shoved the cup under the flow of the frothy liquid and, with much expertise, dashed the flavoring into the cup. She gave him the price and his change.

"I should report the service you're giving me in that comment box over there," Duncan taunted her, his eyes scrutinized the shiny box.

"You wouldn't _dare_," she growled. Then, she shrugged her shoulders. "Doesn't matter anyways: I've been here a whole year. Why fire me over a complaint from you?"

"Because I'm influential."

She shook a long finger at him that was tipped with a long, healthy white nail. "Correction—your _parents _are influential."

She had him there. He'd done nothing great in his mere, shallow existence. Normally, he would've shut up, but she sparked something inside of him that made him want to persist in the argument. Nevertheless, he still held his tongue. If he mentioned money, he would sink even deeper in the well called her opinion. His cheeks burned.

"Humph," she huffed as she stripped off her apron. "As much as I would just love to continue this argument, I have better, more important things to do with my time. So would you please excuse me?" With that, she hung her apron on a hook and walked out of the door. Bested again. It was becoming a pattern.

"Come on, Nasturtium," he sighed as he slid from his seat. No reply. As a result of the silence, he peered under the seat to find that she was sound asleep. It's amazing how something so evil could look so angelic while sleeping. Pulling out the silver and gold sphere, he returned her to the tiny dwelling.

****

*~*

"All right, girls," Aerin emanated as she stood in the middle of the small circle. She glanced at Duncan and, upon seeing him roll his eyes, added, "and guy—uh, Duncan. Please release your pokémon."

The only sound that rung through the ear was the pop and mechanical whirring of the pokéball as its contents were released. Pokémon of all sorts were released: some were pure grass elements and others were the hybrids. As you know, Nasturtium was a Chikorita, and Chikorita are only of the grass element.

Her pout-y lips were curled into a smirk as she was released. As she appraised her surroundings, the smirk was soon transformed into a smile. She was in the company of other pokémon and not being chastised by Duncan when he was in the wrong the whole time. With a loud call, she dashed over to the Vileplume with the big, old head and started a friendly discourse. The Vileplume was cooperative and seemed to enjoy her company.

Aerin sidled next to the now standing Duncan and placed a satisfied hand on her hip. "Look, your Chikorita is getting along well with the other pokémon. My Vileplume, Parabola—don't laugh at her name—seems to really like her. You'll do fine here."

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, a weary smile developing on his lips. _Then boy is she in for a surprise. I just hope that she doesn't make us interact with one another._

She broke away from standing near him and walked back to the middle of the room. "Now, the best time to have some alone-time with your pokémon is by grooming him/her. But, with grass pokémon there is a slight twist. If you have a pokémon—(She looked over at Duncan)—like Chikorita, then you can obviously groom it with a brush. But, if you do not, then watering your grass pokémon is the way." She walked over to a crate and pulled out enough watering cans for the group and one fine-bristled brush for Duncan and started to dispense them. "All right, now. You may start by calling your pokémon."

Naturally, everyone else's pokémon back within one call. Duncan tried to take on a firm timbre as he called her. Nasturtium huddled closer to Parabola and looked at him sideways.

Trixie, the girl with the short green hair and chocolate brown eyes, told Duncan: "Try to call her in a softer tone, Duncan. Then she'll listen." He looked at her with a remorseful look in his eye. There was no use in being overly confident. She patted him on the shoulder. Subsequently, he gave it a try. "Hey Nasturtium, would you mind coming over here?"

She looked at him and uttered a simple, "[No.]"

Imagen clutched her mouth as she giggled a few times. A scandalous grin spread over her face as she said, in a light, friendly voice. "Hey Nasturtium, why don't you come over hear for a second? I'm Imagen," she added and, pointing to a robust Bulbasaur, said, "and this is my pal, Buster. Say 'hi'."

As if Imagen was her God-given trainer, she rushed over to her without hesitation and nuzzled with her and touched vines with Buster, who's bright red eyes squinted in delight. 

Duncan did an animé pratfall and pulled himself up, scurrying over to Imagen. "How'd you do that? She won't even listen to me."

"I'm being nice and carefree with her, something that you should do," she told him matter-of-factly.

He said, "You make it seem so easy."

"That's because it is, Duncan."

Narrowing his eyes he asked, "if it's so easy, then why can't I do it?"

She simply replied, "Maybe you're just not cut out to be a Gym Leader, much less a pokémon trainer."

Aerin slithered over to his side and placed a reassuring hand on his arm and said, "Don't worry about it, Duncan. If you continue to be nice and caring, she should come along. Now you, Imagen, do be nice to him and helpful. Stop being such a smart ass."

"He's more than capable of defending himself, Aerin. He doesn't need you to come along and pat him on the back every time he doesn't get something. Sometimes, one just has to learn things the hard way." Then, leering at Duncan, supplied, "everything can't be just given to you. You have to work for it."

He felt like growling at her, to tell the truth; but that gesture would make him seem like some frightened Growlithe and the thing he most-wanted was to be poised and in control. He'd noticed that Nasturtium had been moving her mouth whenever Imagen said something, imitating her in order to make Duncan feel as if he'd been reduced down to a pulp by two people instead of by just one. She'd succeeded. 

Nasturtium decided that, even though he deserved to rot in hell for what he'd done, she better relieve some of the pressure off of him. She scooted over to his feet and he, being overjoyed by her gesture, sat down Native-American style and pulled out the brush and watering can. He brushed her well enough: enough to make her a little more comfortable with him than what she had been. But the watering was a disaster.

"[That's too much! I'll drown!]" She sputtered water all over the place...including Duncan's face.

"Damn," he grumbled as he wiped his mouth with his bare forearm. The night before, for some _odd_ reason, he found the Celadon Galleria Mall and raided Random, Old Navy, the Finish Line, and Target. He was a hell of a lot more comfortable than he was before, that was for sure. At that moment, he donned a pair of blue jeans with frayed hems and a bright white t-shirt with the Old Navy emblem on the chest. "Was all of that necessary?"

"[Was all of that necessary? You were choking me and now I'm in the wrong for keeping myself from dying? So now you want me to die?]" she yelled.

He didn't understand one word.

This enraged her.

"[_Gah_,]" she growled as he shot twirled the verdant green leaf on her head. One shuriken flew by his ear, causing him to jump. Then, as if it had been delayed, pain seared through his frame and he clutched his bleeding ear. It had been lightly grazed by the leaf. 

He muttered some random blasphemy and asked her, "do you just _have to _hit me all of the time? Violence is not the way."

"[It makes me feel better; even though you've ruined my life by capturing me. Besides,]" she inched forward, looking him deep into the eyes. "[What are you going to do about it? Nothing; yeah—that's right. And who are you to tell me what is the way? Catching me while I was sleep and not head-up is not the way_. Coward!_]"

A loud grin filled the room as a tall, limber guy with black hair and hazel eyes strode into the room. "Someone needs to put her in check. Oh," he began, facing Aerin. "Hey Sis; Mom needs you to take the kids to the park."

She put her hands on her hips. "Can't you see I'm busy? Why can't you do it?" she queried him.

"Because, I have a date—that's why."

"Well, you're going to have to make some sacrifices Mr. Watercress," she declared as she stepped forward, poking him in the chest. "Even though you're older than me_, I _am still the Gym Leader. _I _delegate the power around here. And _I_ have a class right now. And _you_, Dave, are going to have to reschedule because I am in the middle of an important lesson. Now hop to it."

He squinted his eyes dubiously at her. "Huh?"

"Yeah, you heard me the first time. Now leave. Take those little kids to the park," she growled. And, throwing up his hands in defeat, he shuffled out of there. She rubbed her hands together as she approached the group once more. "Now, _that's_ how it's done."

Duncan smiled at her authority; but there was a larger situation at hand. His ear was dripping blood and Nasturtium was still disobedient. Could things get worse? Now _usually_ when one says that, things actually do get worse. So, in order to keep in with tradition, I'll arrange it.

"[I've had enough of being abused; I'm out of here,]" Nasturtium grumbled as she advanced towards the silver and gold pokéball. 

"Duncan," Aerin commanded in a steady tone. "Please remove the pokéball. We can nip this problem right in the bud."

Duncan immediately obeyed. She was the Leader after all—that meant she knew a lot of stuff. He reached for the ball, just before Nasturtium was able to reach it, and shoved it in his pocket. Feeling like he'd actually done something important, a grin appeared on his face. The look on Nasturtium's was priceless.

"[Give it here, you sap-licker!]" she taunted as she scurried over to the pocket that he placed it in, her leaf twirling violently. He just pressed it in further; she didn't stand a chance.

Never before had he felt like sticking out his tongue at her.

"Good," Aerin said. "In order to solve this problem, you two are going to have to be together—_all_ day."

"[Impossible! I'd rather kill myself,]" Nasturtium cried as she fell onto her haunches and pouted her lip, her head drooped down. What fool could've left such a cherubic creature in that pose of melancholy? Well, Duncan could; so that's answer enough; yet, his heart did go out to her. She was a vessel in his becoming a Gym Leader and he wasn't going to let her ruin it. He'd sooner release her than do that—if she was _that_ miserable.

Duncan reached out his hand to pat her reassuringly on the head. She looked up at him icily and he retreated. So, she just sat there and sulked. Oh, but she had a plan. And it would be persuasion enough to convince him that she wasn't the pokémon that he needed to do this: that she wasn't compatible with him. It would be enough to persuade him to get a new pokémon. It was thenceforth made her top priority.

_Maybe this **isn't** my calling..._

****

*~*

Concluding Statements: Wow, thanks for the overwhelming response to the last chapter. I can't believe that like eight people reviewed. It's very heartwarming. Oh and, General Failure, it's not possible for David to have that many pokémon—it's practically every grass pokémon in the game! So I might limit him to just one, okay? Oh, thanks Flamo for the other trainer; I'll fit her in somewhere. And thanks to Erriel, Keleri, Marie, Freedom Fighter, DuoShiogami (???), and Heath, plus any others, for reviewing. Now, what is Nasturtium's plan? Find out in the next chapter of _The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training_! 


	6. Chapter Fifth: Persuasion II

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*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Fifth: Persuasion II

****

Written by the Duke of Briarcliffe

****

*~*

Author's Notes: Once and again, thank you all for being interested in the fanfiction. Lol, this is getting kind of old isn't it? Well anyways, I feel like it's necessary because when you write, you're supposed to make your audience happy and/or, if that doesn't work, just to get it off your psyche. Well, I hope that you enjoy this new chapter—_The Duke of Briarcliffe_

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*~*

"The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure and the intelligent are full of doubt." —Bertrand Russell

****

*~*

**Is it me**, or does that quote seem a bit raunchy? Anyways, I believe that that quote means a lot, especially since it deals with my story and, most importantly, two of my major characters: Duncan and Nasturtium. I am try to decide if they are stupid or are intelligent. There's Nasturtium...she's smart and was mystified as to why Duncan would capture her while she was sleeping and why he expects her to listen to him. Duncan is both smart and stupid. He is definitely _cock_sure—(I've already mentioned how much of a player he was)—and he was full of doubt as to why Nasturtium has taken such a grudge against him and why he couldn't be accepted in this horrible world. In conclusion, I believe that they, along with everyone else in this world, are a mixture of both characteristics. We are, after all, a diverse people.

Many days had passed since we last beheld Duncan and his Chikorita. It was morning. The sun has just bounced up from watery depths up to the meniscus of the horizon. They sky was gray in spite of the presence of the glowing ball of light. Specks of water dotted the gray pavement and softly wrapped upon the windows. A low breeze kicked up the parched leaves that had once longed for the moisture but had their thirst had never been quenched. No rain had visited for many weeks. The day was a _bit _melancholy.

The household was already up and running—a bit sluggish in movement and pace, yet still up and functioning. Madison's rusty hair suffered from the terrible malady called bed-head. Duncan's eyes were a bit dark because he'd had a rough night thanks to Nasturtium, who insisted that she keep the pallet and that he sleep on the hardwood floor. Madison blatantly poured streaming water from the silver faucet into a kettle and placed it on the range where minutes later, it began to whistle loudly.

Duncan was broken from his restless stupor and he groggily rubbed his eyes. His skin was sticky with sweat and he knew that he needed to bathe; yet, he was much too lazy to actually do anything about it. He yawned loudly, brazenly spilling his funky breath into the air.

"[Ewe...go chew on a sprig of mint,]" Nasturtium grumbled as she pulled away from the flow of pungent breath. She coughed in disgust. Energetically did she amble over to the metal fridge and open it up with he healthy vines. Pulling open the crisper box, she pulled out a shiny nectarine that had been carefully washed over with Fit, by Duncan, and paraded back to the window to eat it.

Duncan looked at her and rolled his eyes. He pulled himself up from the floor and waddled over to the counter where Madison stood steeping the pekoe tea bag. A delightful aroma filled the air. Duncan pulled out one of the Styrofoam cups he'd stolen from Café au Lait and poured the steamy liquid into it.

"We should really buy some furniture today," Duncan said. "I can't face sleeping on the floor again; my back is killing me."

"Then, I wonder why you haven't gone on and died yet," Madison said under his breath as he took a careful sip.

"_I heard that_," Duncan grumbled as he pulled the cup to his lips, only to have it slammed onto the counter when he burned his tongue. His face turned a deep red as he inhaled as much air as he could in an attempt to cool it.

Madison smirked. "I was just kidding, Honeycomb." He took another sip, savoring the twang of the bitter tea. He liked things hard and raw. "I'm pretty sure that if you wouldn't complain half as much if Nasturtium let you sleep in the pallet too."

"Maybe," Duncan thoughtfully replied. "But then again, just because she would let me sleep there doesn't mean that she would actually listen to me."

"You're right about that," Madison agreed.

Duncan stared at him from over the rim of the cup and said, "Thanks, that's just what I wanted to here. You have such a knack with words."

His roommate grinned. "I do, don't I?"

Duncan half-smiled as he walked over the refrigerator and examined its contents, or lack thereof. The only thing there was fruit for Nasturtium and the shrimp egg foo young from days before, a liter of Poland Spring water, and, of course, a half-devoured twelve pack of Pepsi. "We _definitely_ have to go shopping today."

"I'm all for it. I mean, I don't have a problem with living off of Pepsi and the Doritos in my bedroom," Madison said, shrugging his broad shoulders.

Duncan looked at him incredulously; "You mean that you've actually been stashing food. How could you?"

Madison simply said, "I was hungry last night so I went to the energy station and bought a big bag of Doritos. Sorry for not caring. I just took things into my own initiative. Besides, you were holed up in your bedroom last night with Nasturtium."

Duncan pointed to his eye and said, "And look where that got me."

Madison leaned forward and touched the tender skin of his under-eye. He winced. "Damn, dude. She really roughed you up last night."

"Humph," he scoffed, "tell me about it."

Madison shook his head from side-to-side as he tossed his cup into a vacant wastebasket. "She really is a feisty little thing."

Duncan rolled his eyes as he looked at her. She looked so smug and proud of her handiwork in the corner. Her violet eyes had an arrogant glint about them. "Tell me something I don't know."

Madison rubbed his chin pensively and said. "Ha. I've got it. Days like this are the best days to go swimming in." He walked off a ways. "Being pelted by water while you're actually _in_ the water...it's like, inescapable, you know?" 

Duncan gave him a sideways look as he walked over to the steps. "While you sit there and daydream about swimming, I'm going to go take a shower and get dressed. Rain or shine, I am not sleeping on this hard-ass floor again."

****

*~*

"Nasturtium, would you please move out of the way. Can't you see that we're moving furniture over here?" Duncan pleaded as he swung the long, textured couch so that it was in perfect alignment with the extensive window. 

That little lip curled up disobediently. "[No.]" She remained fixed in her position, right in the middle of the window. "[I was here first and I'm rather comfortable. I'm not moving one bit.]"

"Fine," he murmured. "Have it your way." _Just don't be angry when you find that you're caught underneath the couch._ Madison gave him a questioning look and Duncan confirmed it. On cue, they moved to the designated spot and were about to drop the couch when Nasturtium dashed from the window.

Her little body heaved as she gazed on at him with unbelieving eyes. "[You were really going to drop it on me weren't you?]" Her little body throbbed due to the immediate exertion she just put on it.

Duncan just ignored her—whatever she'd said couldn't have been good—as he went over to the armchair and lifted it from the ground. He marched over to the left wall, where Nasturtium was sitting and said, "Move it or lose it. I don't have time for your games." She waited until the last second to escape from the wrath of the furniture. When he turned around, she met him with another unbelieving look. "[What the hell is wrong with you, sap-licker? Are you trying to hurt me?]"

Duncan strolled over to the loveseat and looked at it thoughtfully. Madison placed a hand on his bare shoulder. "Do you want me to help, or do you have it on your own?"

"I've got it," he answered as he fixed his hands upon it the best way he could before hoisting it into the air. He wobbled over to the right side of the wall—Nasturtium wisely ducked out of the way—and placed it there. Then he stepped back a few paces and he and Madison admired their strength and precision. Madison rubbed his hands together and said, "Now we have to do the beds!"

Duncan grinned at his friends mock-enthusiasm and wiped his forehead free of the watery beads that had collected onto it. "Yeah, we can put up the pictures and set up the computer desk, TV stand, and tables later." He picked up a clear bottle of Evian and guzzled it. Wiping his mouth, he raised the box that contained the frame for his full-size futon—he'd always preferred those for some reason—and moved to the bedroom; Nasturtium close by.

Once in the room, Duncan got right down to business. He stripped the box of its contents and read the directions before hooking it up. Nasturtium was very close to him; she appeared to be interested—but then again, who knew what was up in that scheming mind of hers?

"Please, move Nasturtium. You're in the way."

"[No! I'm not moving anywhere. Especially if you ask me in that tone.]" A steely smile spread across her face.

"Suit yourself," he exhaled as he utilized the given wrench and screws to forge the metal frame together. Everything was coming along very nicely. He was almost done. 

"Hmmn," he said. "Where is Bar C?" He frantically searched for the last metal bar that he needed that would make the frame complete. He groaned upon finding that it wasn't in the room. Jumping up, he went out of the room and into the den where he found it lying there in the middle of the room. While he was out there, having become suddenly hungry, he decided to warm up a bag of popcorn in their microwave. After a chime resounded, he wolfed down as much as he could and tossed the kernels in the garbage. Then, feeling that he was being a bit harsh towards Nasturtium, even though it was what she duly deserved, he washed off some grapes for her and placed them in a bowl before returning to the room.

Whoa, was he in for a surprise when he came into the room. Not only had the frame of his bed been completely taken apart, but the parts had carelessly been strewn across the room. And, the bandit, stood proudly in the middle of the room with a chunk of the wood in her mouth, smiling widely.

His cheeks were inflamed with blood. Heat radiated from them—the air even looked a bit wavy from a distance, like the sidewalk does on a hot summer's day. He was just so angry. All of the time he'd spent had just been wasted; and all of it had been wasted by the expense of having Nasturtium there with him. Yet, in spite of his anger, he remained calm, and gently collected the parts. She wanted him to be angry. And, when a green vine whipped him across his face, leaving a red scratch that extended from one cheek to the other, he shook it off with a steely resolve. Composedly was how he fully set the bed up and continued to decorate his room, which left Nasturtium boiling over in rage. 

She let out a fierce battle cry before she hurled her little body into him, causing him to glide across the floor. Her whippings had been so overwhelming at first—he'd never been spanked as a child—; but her lashings were meaningless now. He was immune to them. He picked himself up from the floor, collectedly. Still bad-tempered, she fired off a circular leave that grazed his cheek. Droplets of crimson dotted the white material of his wife-beater. He just stared at her.

She faltered behind his glare. She'd never seen him this way before and she damn sure didn't like it. She used to like seeing him touch whichever part of his body that she'd injured but now he didn't seem to care anymore. Her plan was working all right... 

He steadily walked out of the room and into the bathroom. Opening up the medicine cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of alcohol and peroxide and some ointment. He dabbed the cut with a damp washcloth before applying the healing aids.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. There, looking back at him, was a seventeen year old who was rich but didn't have anything to show. He was a normal person once stripped of all the extravagances and such. His thick black hair had wilted due to the humidity. The best gel wasn't even able to hold it up. His clear, bright violet eyes were steady, yet brimming with failure. Under his right eye was a little dark and the cut was anything but invisible. The corner of his lip was still a little swollen from the night before. His washboard stomach was sore from the unnecessary force that had been applied to it. And his neck was stiff from staying in an upright position while sleeping for so many days. If eyes truly are the windows to the soul, then one could obviously see that his had been battered—ego and pride shattered all because of a little snot of a pokémon. And he felt like such a fool for having gotten himself into this and even more for buying her a nice, comfortable bed. A decision was though of, but the future of it was still blurry.

The rain beat upon the window with a tender ferocity. It was comforting, soothing. The sky was dark and the moon was high. He could hear the whine of a car passing by another one. It was annoying. Yet, it had become so much a part of him in the short time he'd been residing in Celadon that it didn't matter any more. Most of all, he was tired.

"Nasturtium," he said, reentering the bedroom. "I have a bed for you. You can sleep in it if you want to."

She just looked at him and growled. "[I don't want anything that you have.]"

He shrugged his shoulders as he stripped off his white tank and rugged jeans in order to put on a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. Her response couldn't have been nice, or even gracious. "Fine then. Just sleep on the floor if that's what you want," he told her as he crawled underneath the sheets. The bed was an instant relief—nice and firm, and most of all, comfortable.

"[_I'm_ sleeping up there and _you're_ sleeping down here,]" she scoffed as she coiled her vines around his body and yanked him out of the bed and onto the floor. He'd hit the floor a bit harder than intended, but she didn't care. Her plan was in progress.

His lip was busted, having bitten it when he landed on the floor, and it stung. He'd had enough. She was more of a hassle than a convenience. He could never amount to anything with her by his side. And maybe having a pokémon that could eventually evolve into Meganium wasn't worth the struggle that he'd been participating in. He was better off without her. At least he was somewhat happy that way; at least he had the hope of capturing a great Chikorita and becoming a Gym Leader. He would have to pull it off some other way. But, he had to pull it off without her. That much was apparent.

Surprising even himself, he clenched his iron-like grip on the scruff of Nasturtium's neck and carted her out of the room. His gaze was steady, as if transfixed on some unattainable object. The object was alleviation. Her endless kicking and squealing caused Madison to rush out of his bedroom. 

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing ?"

He looked at him from over his shoulder. "I'm taking out the trash. I'm not in the business of keeping pokémon that don't want to be kept," was his reply.

"_What?"_

"I'm doing something I should've done a long time ago!" With that, he flung open the door and proceeded down the hall. Not wanting to wait for the elevator, he took the stairs. Each tremor caused by his pace shot pain through Nasturtium's body. 

"[_Let me go! Let me go!_]_"_

He disregarded her.

Minutes later, they made it to the hallway where Duncan was greeted with feminine whistles and scornful looks and phrases by anyone who saw past his toned physique and realized what a horrible deed he was committing. Ignoring those too, he walked to the double glass doors and threw them open.

Lightning crackled on and he was soaked all the way through. But all of that was insignificant—irrelevant—and most of all, redundant. Tears from the sky along with tears of his own fused into one being that trickled down his face. Everything was crashing down upon him. Things were perfect in his imagination but in reality, things had not been going as intended. He had to eliminate the negative things in his life. That is the key to having a good life, after all.

"I know that this is what you want: that this is what you've been praying for. Well guess what, Nasturtium? Now you've got it. Are you happy now_? Are you happy?_ Not only have you ruined my dream but you've also ruined my life. I hate that I ever even caught you. I hate that you hurt me to get what you want. I hate the way you look after you attacked me. Well guess what? It's all over now." He tossed her across the sidewalk and she hydroplaned across the slick surface. She hopped to her feet and stared at him, hurt. "You ran away the other day. So why don't you go there now! Wherever it was, it must've been better than this. You'll be happier there. And most importantly, you'll be away from here. I don't want to see you again!"

She hesitantly turned to walk away, looking behind her back the entire time. For some reason, he'd stayed there, his eyes riveted on her, and saw her off. As if that would redeem him. Well...her plan had worked—that much was evident. She got what she wanted. But, as she skulked away, she wondered why she felt so dejected... 

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*~*

Concluding Statements: Short and sweet and to the point. I know that was a bit disturbing but he was just so full of anger. Tell me was he justified in doing what he did and did Nasturtium get what she deserved in your reviews. I really need your input. Also tell me what you think the plan was. It's not a toughie, LOL. Sincerely yours, —_The Duke of Briarcliffe_


	7. Chapter Sixth: Infatuation

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*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Sixth: Infatuation

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Written by the Duke of Briarcliffe

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Author's Notes: As usual, thanks for any reviews that have been submitted to my story. I hope that you will continue to read and enjoy it. Oh, and take a look at the title of each chapter. Do you notice any sort of theme? Well, in case you don't I'll tell you in the **C**oncluding **S**tatements. Come on; think! I know you can do it... — The Duke of Briarcliffe

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*~*

"We all dream; we do not understand our dreams, yet we act as if nothing strange goes on in our sleep minds, strange at least by comparison with the logical, purposeful doings of our minds when we are awake." —Erich Fromm, author of _The Forgotten Language_

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*~*

As Mr. Fromm **said**, we all dream. Without them, I am sure that more than half of the people in this world wouldn't know what they would like to aspire to. As we all know, Duncan Beechcombe wanted to become a Grass Element Gym Leader, but, although he isn't the main character in the story, isn't Madison Ketchum just as likely to have dreams and aspirations? Yes, he is. Naturally, he wanted to maintain the Cerulean Gym.

His situation wasn't like many others. Ms. Waterflower didn't apply any pressure to her son as far as the inheritance thing went. This was of his own free will. He _wanted_ to take over the Gym. And why should anyone stop him? He was more qualified than most and he was a courageous sort by nature. He would make an excellent Leader.

But there was one thing that he couldn't quite master. Yes, although he seems like the most well-rounded person that you may know, he did have one minor flaw. Sadly, yet true, Madison was a blubbering fool when around a girl that he was infatuated with. He couldn't look them in the eyes, he'd inherited the nasty tendency from his mother—his semi-pale skin, but he worked hard for his light tan—that made every flush noticeable; in some of the more severe cases, he broke out in a sweat and—translate this!—_il a eu un chat dans la gorge_. To Duncan, his behavior wasn't anything less than hilarious. 

Duncan was usually the one who did all the talking because he was usually the suave, debonair type; that is, when the girls didn't know anything about his family or usual over-confidence. In other words, he was the matchmaker of the two. And, a few of the times, the girl actually fell for Duncan, much to Madison's dismay.

Anyways, back to the fan-fiction. At that moment, Madison and Duncan were ambling down Bijou Boulevard once again. It was a long street and had hundreds of perfumeries and cafés. It was morning-time and the cars slowly sped down the street in order to get to their workplaces. And the sky wasn't the only thing gray from the night before...

Duncan wore a grave expression on his face and Madison wondered what was going on in that mind of his. Duncan was never the type to openly come out and express his most heartfelt feelings and Madison wasn't sure how to extract those feelings from his head. He firmly believed that when the time came—when Duncan couldn't retain it any longer—he would spill out his thoughts like a faucet, continually. Hopefully, that time would be soon, because he didn't exactly like the way his roommate was looking.

"Take a picture, it'll last much longer," he grumbled as he walked on. His hair was messy: not neatly-gelled and spiky like it usually was. And he was wearing the outfit he'd worn the other day, which was something that Duncan thought to be a fashion faux pas.

Madison threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine then. I give up. I won't worry about you anymore." As they walked on in silence, Madison slyly stared at him from the corner of his eye.

"Thanks, you're saving the both of us some time." He cocked his head to the left and then to the right, searching. When he didn't find what he'd been looking for he muttered, "Where's that damn Post Office?"

Madison looked ahead to see a medium-sized building jutting up from the ground. It was at least a mile away and Madison's throat was getting a bit dry. He needed something liquid and he didn't care what it was. He scanned the surroundings. _A perfume shop, another perfume shop...yet another perfume shop, a shoe store, Armani Exchange—Duncan better not get any ideas—ah! A coffee shop with some French-looking name._ "Hey Honeycomb, let's head over there. I'm thirsty."

"Why don't you go there and I'll go to the Post Office. We'll be getting two things out of the way if we do that," he replied as they came to a halt. There they stood, in front of Café au Lait, the same in height, almost the same in stature, yet so different in other ways; but somehow, they'd managed to become best friends in the midst of all the differences. There are more confusing things in the world...

"Fine. Fine. If you don't want to wait for me then go," Madison told him, deliberately sounding a bit hurt. He sniffled; "I'll meet up with you later. I know when I'm not wanted."

Duncan grinned—the first time all day—and walked away. That confident spring in his step was gone and we all know why. Abandoning Nasturtium wasn't so hard while he was doing it, but the consequences of his actions were unnerving. Sometimes he figured that it was the right thing to do, and other times he wished that he could've handled it better. He'd endured the abuse so long...why not endure it some more? 

When the rushing of the air down his parched trachea became painful, Madison was compelled to go buy something to drink. His friend could be put off his mind for a while. He had needs too and there was no need to sacrifice his mind _and _his body to Duncan. He had to take things into his own hands; and Madison saw that he was _more than_ capable of doing things that.

The aroma of freshly-brewed coffee was alluring to him the moment he'd opened the door. He looked around and found a tall refrigerator filled with cakes and pastries along with cold beverages. A smoothly-rounded bottle of cherry-flavored Clearly Canadian had his name on it.

Who would've know that on his way to the Clearly Canadian he would've seen an angel in the coffee shop? She had to be the most beautiful creature that had ever graced the Earth with her existence. Her hair was made of bronze and of more than just 14K gold and her supple skin made her glow. Her aqua eyes were bright; so powerful that they burned a searing hole in his heart and he knew that from then on, he was putty in her hands. The angel walked from behind the counter and pulled out a scrunch-y, which caused her abundantly curled hair to spill down her shoulders. In Madison's opinion she'd just evolved from _just _an angel to an actual goddess. As she placed her black apron on a shiny hook, she must've caught him staring. She looked at him and smiled and said, "Hi." Her voice was as sweet as honey and he wanted to hear more of it...but she shut the door. And he stood there, mesmerized. A hello transfixed on his lips but never orated.

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*~* *~*

__

Dear Duncan,

Hey Honey, it's me, your mother. I sincerely hope that your residency in Celadon City has been fabulous. Life at home has been tedious since you've gone and me and your father have just been so busy that we couldn't give you a call. Just yesterday I had to fly off to the Orange Archipelago to introduce my new pokéball design. I call it the Metallic Ball because it is made of pure titanium. If you look closer in this parcel, you'll see one in there, especially for my baby! Also, in case you haven't had any luck thus, I've enclosed a surprise for you. Your father gives his regards, son. Call me if you need anything!

Your loving Mother,

Helen

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*~* *~*

_Mom always knows what to do to make someone feel better. _Duncan exhaled deeply as he stared into the big, blue sky. He was in the park, close to where he captured that little devil what seemed like years ago. From the cubic package he retrieved the cold metal ball. It wasn't at all heavy and it was pretty attractive too. 

He shook it, a smile on his once-blank face, and expanded it before calling out the two magic words. Blue energy made a whirring noise at it collectively formed into one object, one being. Duncan smiled upon seeing what sat on the table with its head cocked to the side, examining its new trainer.

It had sparse, tan fur with a cream underbelly. Its huge eyes showed that it was rather young; they expanded with delight as it smiled. They were an intense shade of lime green. They were adorable. And, on the top of his head—it was a male—twirled a healthy green leaf. Duh...if you hadn't figured it out by now it was another Chikorita. But this one, he was from the Orange Archipelago: hence the coloring.

"Hey, little guy," Duncan said sweetly as he stroked the inquisitive pokémon's chin with the crook of his right thumb. The new Chikorita immediately began his inspection of this unknown guy. To him he smelled good, like the woods—compliment of his cologne—and he liked the woods. He jumped onto his shoulder and began to smell his hair and his neck, then his mouth, which smelled like orange juice. Then he smelled his underarms and then his feet. Then his...

"Hey, hey, hey. I believe you've smelled enough of me," he said with a grin.

The little pokémon beamed as he snuggled closer in his lap. His little head rested against his abdomen and Duncan couldn't help stroking his fur. He'd shared such little physical contact with Nasturtium, in spite of the times that she was beating him up, and he savored the moments he shared with this anonymous pokémon.

"Cha! [Me like you! You smell good,]" he chirped from below as he jumped from his lap and back onto the table. He began to traverse the table back and forth, not fixated in a certain spot. 

Duncan pensively rubbed his chin. Like Nasturtium, he too needed a name and he decided that it wouldn't be based on a flower. He guessed that it was a bit tacky. "Do you like the name Boomer?"

He stopped and sounded it out. "[Boo. Boo-m. Boom. Er. Boom-er. Boomer! Me like that name,]" he responded as he extended a vine. Unknowingly, Duncan flinched at the gesture; however, after reminding himself that Boomer actually liked him he extended his hand and touched it. Boomer smiled.

"[Where's your den?]" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Duncan didn't understand what he said so he just smiled and said, "Follow me." Obediently, Boomer jumped into his arms and let him carry him to the destination. Duncan had been meaning to go there for a while now, but his former pokémon hadn't been so pliant or deserving.

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*~*

"Hey Duncan," Aerin chirped as he walked into the Gym. "How's it going?" Then, looking around and not seeing the one thing that was always with him, she quirked an eyebrow. "Where's Nasturtium?"

He didn't want to tell her the truth, so he stretched it to fit his needs. Flatly coming out and telling her that he'd thrown her out onto the street would make her despise him; and he didn't feel like having an enemy. She was only nice person around. "Nasturtium ran away," he said in a saddened voice.

She genuinely looked caring and even hurt. "Are you serious? I mean, are you sure that she actually ran away?"

"Yeah, or else she would be with me right now."

"When did this happen?"

"Late last night," he remarked. "When it was thundering and lightning and raining. I woke up in the middle of the night and looked around my room. I checked the little bed I bought her but she wasn't there." He paused for effect "I decided thats she probably went to go raid the refridgerator—she usually gets a late night snack—so I went into the kitchen and searched the living room. But she wasn't there either. And then I knew that she wasn't there: that she had left for good."

Aerin placed her hand over her mouth and let out a horrified gasp. "I can't believe that she actually ran away. Yeah, I knew that you two didn't get along and everything. But I suppose that she was just so unhappy with you that she had to escape." She turned to the doors and looked out of them and to the city outside. "Where did you capture her?"

"At Celadon Park."

She nodded her head. "She probably went there. You should go look for her."

"This wasn't her only time...running away." Aerin turned around to look him into the eyes and he knew that he had her under his control. "She ran away a few days ago and came back late that night. I assume that there's something that lures her back."

"Another pokémon, perhaps?"

"Could be," he replied. "All I know is that all week, it seemed like she was doing all she could to irritate me. See," he said pointing to his eye, which had not completely healed and his busted lip.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he said, looking away for the dramatization. "I'm fine. She didn't give out anything that I couldn't handle."

She looked down to the ground. "I'm never the one to think bad things of other people or pokémon, but I guess that what she did was for the best. Running away, that is. I do believe that a pokémon is not always compatible with its trainer as your case proved. You should capture another pokémon and start over."

He clutched the sphere that hung from his neck off of a silver rope chain. "My mother sent me this. There's another pokémon inside of it."

"Really? How ironic," she mused as she examined the ball. She was rather close to him. The moment she realized this, she leaped back and scratched her head. "Oh, so his name is Boomer, eh?"

"Yeah." Inside, he was laughing. If he wanted to, he could go out with Aerin at any time. She would be willing. And, if he was feeling even more devious, he could definitely take advantage of her and she wouldn't mind one bit. 

"So...what is it?"

"Another Chikorita."

"Oh, can I see him?"

"Sure," he said, not resisting. He clucthed the ball and recalled the pokémon inside who, upon his stepping back into existence, affectionately rubbed up against Duncan's leg. 

"Cutie," Aerin cooed as she reached down to coddle him and to talk in the same stupid voice that people use when they're talking to babies or puppies. Boomer smiled, lavishing in the attention that had been bestowed upon him. He even licked the back of her hand. "He sure is friendly," she said. "I wonder how he'll fare in a battle."

Duncan unconsciously became all tense. Aerin looked at him oddly, her head tilted a good forty-five degrees, before shaking her head in agreement with herself. "I get it. I take it you haven't been in a pokémon battle before?"

"I've been in one before," he quickly defended himself. She could tell that something else was on the tip of his tongue, so she leaned in closer. His shoulders sunk a few inches as he admitted, "Just not with my own pokémon."

"I see," she said in a serious tone. She grabbed him by the hand and said, "Follow me." Then, leading him through a narrow corridor that led to the East Bubble. "I want to show you my pokémon."

He followed along unquestioningly. He didn't mind parading through the halls with her and Boomer. Besides, he was getting a spectacular view—and it wasn't just of the various perfume bottles that were on disply behind glass windows. Minutes later, the threesome made it to the area where the pokémon were kept, most often referred to as the Secret Garden. Tall trees representing virtually all of the climatic zones jutted from the soft earth and reached for the sky. Flowers twisted around the trees and peeked from behind tall grasses, showing their spectacular brilliance. Boomer was having a whack-attack: rolling around on the ground and going crazy over this one green plant that had an enchanting fragrance.

Other pokémon slowly advanced towards the source of all the frolicking and laughter. They smiled upon seeing their wonderful trainer standing there with her student; they greeted her affectionately. But Parabola, she was a bit confused.

"[Hey...you're not Nasturtium.]"

"[Me don't know a nasturtium...maybe there's some in your garden,]" he innocently replied.

"[No, not the flower; she's an actual pokémon. Your trainer used to bring her around here.]"

Boomer looked as confused as he did before. "[If he had her, she not here anymores. Me here though.]"

A Tangela creeped forward and in a husky voice asked, "[What's your name, kid?]"

"[Boom-Boom. Boomer! Yeah, that's it...I think. My buddy named me today. He's so nice.]"

"[Ha, that's what you think,]" the Tangela coughed.

"[Me no understand.]"

"[If he had Nasturtium and she's not with him anymore, then that means that she left him for some reason. Maybe because she was being abused.]"

Boomer stamped his foot in anger. "[Nah-uh. My friend would never do that. He's too nice to me!]"

"[Just don't slip up, kid, or you'll be out cold on the gutter."

"[Stop it,]" Boomer cried as he sunk down to his belly. "[You very mean and bad. Me don't like you at all! I'm going to my friend.]"

"[Wait, kid. Don't listen to what he tells you. He's a real sap-licker, if you know what I mean.]"

"[Huh?]" he dubiously queried.

"[Nothing, kid,]" Parabola said. "[Just stick with us. We'll be your friends.]" She introduced him to a spunky Bellossom named Fabienne and showed him around the Secret Garden. But like any little kid, or person in general, he couldn't help but wonder if what Tangela said was true.

Meanwhile...Aerin told Duncan, "Tomorrow I'm scheduled to have a match with a kid named Freddie. Why don't you come and watch it?"

"That would be fine by me. I don't have anything plan."

"Then it's settled," she concluded as she and Duncan strolled down a worn path that led to the exit of the Secret Garden. In the doorframe, she stopped and turned to him. "I'll be expecting you there."

"I don't break my engagements," he replied as he made his way out of the Garden, Boomer having come up to him and gotten into his sphere, and to the entrance of Celadon Gym. 

"Ducan," she started, dreamily as if she wasn't exactly sure what she was doing. He turned around, knowing that she was putty in his hands and that he could use her in any way possible. A sly grin spread across his wide lips. "Yes?"

She shook her head, as if she was clearing some unwanted substance from it. "Don't forget to take notes," she lamely remarked upon looking into his eyes once more. 

"I won't," he grinned. _She's all mine; that is, if I want her to be..._

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"You know that girl at uh....Café Olette?" Madison queried as he and Duncan sat over a box of pepperoni pizza. An oozing dollop of mozzarella cheeze fiercly latched onto Madison's bristly chin. "_Ah shit! _" he blasphemed.

"_Café au Lait_," he corrected; then, smiling, he asked, "What do you mean 'that girl'?"

"I don't know her name but she has got to be the hottest woman on this entire planet!"

Duncan rubbed his chin. "If she is the hottest woman in the world then I'm sure that I would've noticed her...probably would have even her phone number."

Madison narrowed his eyes at him. "Well maybe she only works on certain days. Here; I'll refresh your memory. She has the shiniest curly blond hair and aqua eyes, like mine. And she is about this tall and has the most perfect smile on the world. Her teeth are _so_ white."

Duncan doubled over in his mirth upon realizing who his pal was alluding to. I mean, he was _really_ cracking up—practically rolling on the floor. Tiny tears welled up in his eyes and his cheeks hurt from all the laughter.

"What's so funny, ass?"

"_You_ like _Imagen_?"

He leaned forward in curiosity. "That's her name? Imagen...that's the most beautiful name in the w—"

"If you say something as sappy as that again, I swear it, I'll punch you dead in the face," he threatened. He shook his head in amazement. "I can't believe that _you_ like _Imagen!_"

"What's wrong with that?"

"She has got to be the biggest _bitch_ in the—" he caught himself. "Ever," he concluded. "Why would you like someone like her. Believe me, dude. You deserve better."

Madison's eyebrows knit together. "I don't like the way you're talking about her. That's really degrading."

"If I knew that you would have gotten into _protective-over-someone-you-don't-even-know _mode, I wouldn't have said it." He mused about it for a moment. "Oh wait, I would."

Madison practically growled at him. "And now I know why I am the better friend out of the both of us," he grumbled.

"Come again?"

"Nothing," he replied sweetly. He sighed. "I don't ask you for much. I mean, I rarely ask you for anything. But could you just, try to introduce us or get some information about her?"

Duncan sneakily smiled. "_Sure._ I'll be your matchmaker."

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Concluding Statements: Sorry this chapter took so long but I spent the weekend over my sister's house—I had mucho fun—and didn't bring this with me. I hope that you liked this chapter. Don't forget to review. And thanks to anyone who has recently reviewed who aren't one of the normal reviewers. It's nice knowing that my fic isn't that intimidating in order to prevent fetching new readers. And the recurring theme of the chapters is....drumbroll please...novels and songs. Infatuation is by none other than the talented-ly stripped Christina Aguilera—The Duke of Briarcliffe

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	8. Chapter Seventh: Fighter

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*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Seventh: Fighter

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Written by the Duke of Briarcliffe

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Author's Note: Ah! This is so weird. I'm like praising people for reviewing when all of the reviews haven't even come in. But thanks anyways. I usually start the chapters immediately after I post one so that is why it's so awkward for me. Well, I hope that you enjoy the chapter. And thanks to Spare Time (???) for giving me those plots, but I'm way ahead of you. They were intriguing though. —The Duke of Briarcliffe

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"Spoon feeding in the long run teaches us nothing but the shape of the spoon."

— E. M. Forster

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THE SILVER SPOON IS a wonderful piece of silverware. The Beechcombe family even had their own set that was a family heirloom. It was elegantly carved and very metallic-looking; so much in fact that its brilliance shown in the mellow light of the dining room. Lavender Hills was a very old estate. It was actually a drawing room in past centuries and, when the revels took place, they were held there. But what _the hell_ does that have to do with this story? A lot. A silver spoon fed Duncan as a child and believe me, he knew that silver spoon better than anything else in the house, metaphorically speaking. You figure it out.

Madison decided, for some _unknown _reason, to tag along with his pal on his daily sojourn to Café au Lait. His appearance looked more tame than his usual graphic message t-shirts. Instead he wore his simply white and blue ringer tee and some sort of denim. He wore jeans every day. It was his trademark.

"I know why you're coming with me today," Duncan toyed as they ambled down the boulevard. A mischievous smile was on his lips and he stared at him out of the corner of his eye. He'd really taken over Madison's role in their friendship since the confession of his ardent desire for Imagine; in other words, instead of being the _offended_, he was the _offender_.

"Nah, really?"

Duncan chuckled to himself. "You're probably going to just sit there like an idiot." He turned to face him and put his hand on his heart. "I promise on my Boy Scout's honor that I will not laugh...until we get out of there."

"You're quite the comedian aren't you? You're too soft to be a Boy Scout," he said, out loud for him to hear.

"I resent that. I was a Boy Scout for a year. When I was really young."

"Right," he said, veering off to the right. "Sure you were." He breezed through the door as if he was the most carefree guy in the world, but when he saw that Imagen was not there, his confidence faded away. His heart sobbed for her because it had not had the delight of seeing her angelic face. He was ready to just turn around and leave. Besides, he'd strode in there so confidently that, to the people already in the shop, he'd look so stupid if he left. But when did he start caring so much? Infatuation, or just love in general, I believe, can bring out the most unnatural characteristics in a person.

"I guess I should've told you that she doesn't work on Fridays...slipped my mind," he said while scratching his head. It was so hard..._damn gel_. _I should really stop using it ._

"You did this on purpose, Duncan."

"Honest," he replied, throwing his hands into the air. "I forgot." He looked away. "Unlike some people, she isn't the only thing on my mind in the morning—or at night. My French vanilla latté is calling for me, so are you staying here or not? Because I have to go watch a Gym Match at the Gym. She's bound to be there if you feel like sticking around."

"Just hurry up."

"For someone who can barely talk to a girl, you sure are demanding. I'll take as long as I damn well please. Besides, I have to stop at the Pokémon Center."

Madison groaned.

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"Move down," Imagine scoffed as she made her way down to the bleachers. Duncan was at the edge with Madison at his right side and she knew that was the best view of the field. Duncan shuffled over. Deciding that sitting next to Duncan for a prolonged period of time wasn't that appealing, she climbed over him and sat next to his friend. 

She pivoted her head and looked into the eyes of her partner. "Hi; my name's Imagen. What's your name?"

"What, no greeting?" Duncan asked with questioning eyes and a tilt of his head. 

She rolled her eyes at him before replying to his query in the negative. _I don't usually do it. So why start now?_ _...Besides, his friend seems a lot more down-to-earth._

"I'm Madison—Duncan's friend," he choked out. His cheeks were reddening every few seconds and she wasn't too sure why. The weather hadn't exactly been warm so she attributed that to a possible cold. 

"A friend of Duncan's? There are odder things in the world," she remarked with a leer in Duncan's direction. "How do you manage? How do you manage," she softly mumbled to him.

He laughed tersely, shifting his position.

"Is there something wrong?" 

"Not at all," he quickly replied. He tugged at his shirt collar. "It's just a bit muggy in here. This is my first time at the Gym."

"Oh I see. It has to be warm and humid. Grass pokémon thrive best in those conditions. You get used to it after a while," she explained to him. "So Duncan,"—shifting the subject—"where's Nasturtium?"

He'd been praying that she wouldn't bring it up. And he knew that she was a lot more clever and not so easily swayed. But he couldn't think of a good enough story to tell her. And, by judging from experience, he might as well keep the same story in order to prevent getting trapped in his own lie. "She ran away."

Madison raised a peculiar eyebrow at him. 

Being so aloof, that didn't escape her ever-watchful notice.

"Oh really? When?"

He decided to act normally. "Well who's James, since you want to ask questions?"

"That's my business," she gravely replied.

"Well there's your answer. So stay out of mine too."

"Duncan..." Madison droned, frowning the entire time.

"Don't worry, Madison. That's our relationship. I can handle him. He's nobody," Imagen informed him. 

"Same here," Duncan told him.

Madison, the stress having been somewhat lifted from his shoulders, became more relaxed. Imagen was funny. He liked her even more. Anyone that could spark an argument and go on like she did was definitely agreeable. It was fun to observe.

Imagen went in to ask him the typical questions that I won't repeat—you know, such as where are you from, etc. Yeah, that's the stuff. Anyways, Aerin was just showing up on the field. She was on the left while her opponent was on the right. A referee stood in the middle of the field, where there is a line that makes one large ring into two semicircles. He donned a zebra colored short and, what many thought, proportionally short shorts. A silver whistle dangled loose chain. Within seconds, he placed the instrument in his mouth and held up a navy blue flag.

"This is a two-on-two match. The challenger, Freddie Norman from Pallet Town is battling the Celadon Gym Leader, Aerin, for the Rainbow Badge. There is no time limit." He took a few steps back before dropping the flag down to his side. "Begin!"

Freddie could not have been more than thirteen years old. He wasn't very tall and—Duncan noticed—he wasn't wearing matching clothes (like most people in the Pokémon TV show that wear those random getups). He looked as if he had the world in his hands. He confidently produced a standard pokéball and launched it into the sky, releasing a very small Cyndaquil. 

"Fire pokémon always have the advantage against grass pokémon," he arrogantly explained. "This match should be a breeze. I'll give it five minutes tops."

Aerin grinned as she shook her head. She was so tired of people thinking that a type advantage always works. It's experience that matters most. She had to teach him a lesson: it was her duty as a Gym Leader. "You're right," she said with a giggle. "This match should be a breeze. I choose you, Fabienne!"

The spunky Bellossom was released from her temporary encasement. She immediately jumped into the air and twirled. She had so much rhythm and so much energy that it could only be kept in check by dancing. 

"[Bella! (Get ready, 'cause here I come!)]" she warned him as she began to hop around like a boxer, a smile on her face the entire time. 

"Fabienne? What type of name is that?" The boy shook his head in confusion. "Cyndaquil, we better end this quick. I have place to go and pokémon to catch. Use a flamethrower attack."

"[Right!]"

Cyndaquil leaped back and rotated his head about 180 degrees before abruptly shooting his head forward, mouth open, and expelling a stream of searing fire. Fabienne waited patiently for her orders. She depended heavily on Aerin's judgment.

"Leap into the air, Fabienne." 

Stooping down just a bit, for the springboard effect, she shot into the air like a speeding missile. She went into a graceful arc as she went over her opponent's head. She looked over at Aerin—while upside down, of course—and she nodded her head. Knowing exactly what that meant, her body stiffened as she placed an elegant kick to the side of his head, causing the Cyndaquil to roll several yards and to yelp in pain.

"Huh? That's cheating!" Freddie accused.

"No it's not," Aerin remarked. "That, Freddie, was a Mega Kick and it is registered in the Indigo League as a legitimate attack."

He awkwardly scratched at his matted brown hair and mumbled, "But you didn't call out an attack. Get up, Cyndaquil and tackle that Bellossom."

Cyndaquil struggled to his feet and swayed a little bit, reeling from the effectiveness of the blow. He desperately shook his head, clearing his thoughts, before springing off his hind legs and charging onwards. 

"Use your sleeping powder," Aerin told her.

"[You got it,]" Fabienne replied as the two flowers began to spin, which produced a whirring noise. She made a kissing face and put her hand to her mouth. "[I like to call this the Kiss of Death.]" She smacked her lips; sparkling blue powders was released.

"Dodge it now!"

Cyndaquil was much too slow to dodge the attack. He wasn't that agile either. Besides, that powder had been strategically aimed so that not only would it be aimed at him, but also to the surrounding area in case of a possible dodging. Upon contact, his eyelids drooped and within seconds he fell to the turf, snoring loudly.

"What the—"

"None of that in here," Aerin quickly reprimanded him.

"That's no fair! What can he do if he's sleeping?"

"Nothing," she replied with a laugh. "That's why it is effect. And...(looking over towards the referee) that is why I have just won the first round."

The boy did one of those hilarious animé drops.

"Good job, Fabienne. I knew that you could get the job done." Fabienne leaped into her companions arm and her ear-petals twirled in delight. Then, being the attention-grabber that she was, she immediately began to break-dance on the floor. She did The Worm and even spun on the ground and hopped to her feet. Aerin clapped after her little performance and the audience laughed good-naturedly.

"Your pokémon does what she wants. Maybe you cannot control her as you should," Freddie scoffed.

She simply replied that: "If you allow your pokémon to do what he or she likes, that makes them happy. In return they are more loyal, and appreciate you even more. Recreational freedom is good for anyone. And if she's happy when she dances, then I'm going to let her dance."

"Go Aerin," Madison cheered. She really knew what she was talking about. And it was obvious that she was a great Gym Leader. He admired anyone who knew how to raise a pokémon well, even his father—but in a different way. That was just one thing that Madison just could not hold against him; he was a _damn good _trainer.

"Is it possible to like two people at once?" Duncan asked while leaning in to him.

Madison gave him the smoldering death glare.

"What was that?" Imagen asked, wondering if it concerned her by chance. The last thing she needed right now was to have to put Duncan in check in the middle of such a great Gym Match. 

"Nothing," he answered automatically. He turned away. But seconds later, when his mirth could no longer be suppressed, he boiled over in laughter. People on the lower and upper parts of the bleachers turned up to look at him, and all had grim expressions.

"Ugh," Imagen grunted as she shook her head in disgust. "Whatever it was, do us all a favor and get over it."

"That's exactly what I was thinking, Imagen."

"Great minds think alike," she replied with a grin. She turned towards Duncan's direction and said, "That one over there is just a waste."

_Is it me or is Imagen actually flirting with Waterflower? _

"Sometimes I think so too."

_This is really entertaining._

"Whatever," Duncan flatly responded. "I have many great things."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Imagen retorted.

"You watch and see."

"Just watch the Match!" Imagen snapped.

"It is now the second round. Gym Leader Aerin has decided to keep Fabienne, the Bellossom, out on the field. Which pokémon will the challenger use?"

Aerin waited patiently for her opponent's decision. Her face was steady and unwavering. She had great outward composure. It was something she'd inherited from Erika. Erika rarely lost her composure. 

"I'm gonna choose you, Hoothoot!" As a result, Freddie tossed out a pokéball containing the heretofore mentioned pokémon. The ball made a popping sound and then the pokémon was dispelled from its abode.

It shrilled out its name and spun around on what appeared to be one massive foot. Its beady eyes tried their best to be imposing but Fabienne was too experienced to ever be phased by such a gesture. 

"I'm ready when you are," Aerin sweetly told him.

"Fine then! Hoothoot, peck her!" 

Hoothoot flapped its tiny wings very rapidly. But was only lifted a foot above the ground. It fell to the ground in a wheezing and panting heap before, upon seeing the dumbfounded gaze on its trainer's face, quickly hopping to its feet. He leaped at Fabienne with as much ferocity as a winded Hoothoot possibly could—and that wasn't very much. Fabienne sidestepped each peck.

"Without that aerial advantage I'm afraid that your Hoothoot won't be able to last much longer," Aerin informed him. "Fabienne, use your petal dance attack!"

Fabienne jumped back several feet before getting into the right pose—all limbs outstretched—and her petals began to spin. An orb of magenta energy formed where her waist was and within seconds, a barrage of beautiful petals assaulted the poor owl pokémon.

"Hoothoot, you were supposed to dodge that!"

Hoothoot was much too hurt to reply to anything.

"Now do a quick attack!"

Hoothoot lagged as he advanced towards his opponent. Fabienne let him get really close to her. She was a fan of toying with her opponents. A devilish grin tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Absorb his energy."

The Hoothoot let out a weak battle cry as it leaped at her, however, he was caught in midair. A shocked expression showed on his face as he realized that he couldn't move. A transparent green orb transferred from her body to his and, upon contact, the energy was drained right of him. Seconds later, he fell to the ground, unmoving. The match was over.

"Hoothoot is unable to battle. Therefore, the match goes to Aerin, the Celadon Gym Leader."

"That's impossible. I can't believe that I lost the match." Freddie sunk down to his knees as he lamented his shortcomings. Things just weren't going his way. It was the first match he'd ever lost.

Instead of rejoicing over a match well-done, Aerin approached her challenger and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's really all right. You could challenge me when you get a little more experience—"

"Just leave me the fuck alone!" Freddie warned. He then stomped out of the arena and headed out of the door, leaving Aerin with a grave expression on her face. Hurting someone's feelings was something she didn't like to do. 

As usual, there was an influx of spectators and friends that commended her on how great she battled, but she was preoccupied. So much in fact that she didn't even notice that Imagen and Duncan were standing together and weren't at each other's throats.

"He really took that loss hard," said the anonymous cutie.

"I'd say," Duncan seconded. 

"Well, that's what he gets when he goes up against a pro," Imagen kidded.

Aerin laughed half-heartedly. 

Imagen's smile faded. "Don't worry. His pride might have been damaged but he'll come around again. Believe me. Anyone with as big an ego as his wouldn't just leave everything up in the air like this." 

What a universal truth!

"I hope your right."

She shook her by the shoulders. "Stop being so damn nice all of the time. Be a bitch sometimes! It's fun!"

"That would explain why—"

"Don't," Madison cut in.

"What was that?"

"I said—" he struggled to keep his cool as a stinging pain shot through his body that stemmed from his ribs. "Nothing," Duncan bit out. "Oh, this is my friend Madison Ketchum."

They went through the whole greeting process.

"You say your name is Ketchum, right?" Aerin asked. "I think my mom had some contact with a Ketchum when she was the main Gym Leader."

"Ash Ketchum, I take it. He was kind of responsible for the whole thing involving the Gym being burned down."

"Oh yeah! He must be your dad."

Madison only shook his head.

"I like it better this way. I've seen the pictures before it all happened."

Madison only grinned.

"So Duncan," Aerin began. "Did you take notes?"

"Yeah, more than you may know..."

****

*~*

Concluding Statements: Hooray! Complete. What could he possibly mean. Oh, by the way. Don't take the whole _il a eu un chat dans la gorge_ for its literal meaning. It's just an idiomatic expression meaning that he can't speak due to an itchy throat, or that it's hard to speak. Everyone's just like **O.O**, WTF? LOL. Oh...Shadow, I totally forgot that you've reviewed before. Thanks for everything. The next chap will be up soon. —The Duke of Briarcliffe


	9. Chapter Eighth: Bleak House

****

*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Eighth: Bleak House

****

Written by The Duke of Briarcliffe

*~*

Author's Note: Ah, dear Marie. I'm sorry if I wasn't up to par with the battling scenes. I know, I too realized that they were amazingly short. Maybe I shouldn't have stress how extremely outmatched he was for the sake of the reader's enjoyment. The next will be longer, I promise. So, with that said and done...enjoy! —The Duke of Briarcliffe

****

*~*

"Problems do not go away. They must be worked through or else they remain,

forever a barrier to the growth and development of the spirit." 

—M. Scott Peck, M.D. , American Psychiatrist, Author

****

*~*

Weary From A Hectic Night at the Cheapside Pokémon Center, Imagen Purposefully Marched along Giorgio Avenue to her intended destination. The streetlights had just flickered on and seemed to illuminate the sidewalk, making her feel as if they were made just for her. Her bearing was purposeful and proud, she'd never let any weakness show by having a downcast face. No, not Imagen. That image of posterity was something that had to be well maintained; it was a dire necessity; her guard could never be let down. 

The prospect of returning to a warm home was well thought of. If only her daydream could have been a reality. The apartment was in a total state of dishabille. Boxes and little cans were strewn across the floor. A fine, film of dust seemed to have glazed over every surface imaginable. And the house reeked of elderly people. Yet, it was all so very familiar.

"Hey little man," Imagen said sweetly as she scooped the little toddler up from the cluttered floor. He stuck his thumb in his mouth in content at having seen his benefactress once again. How could anything so cherubic have wreaked so much havoc on the household? Imagen wondered about this herself, however, she knew that he was just a child and that he hardly knew any better. 

"_Gah!_" he cheered as he waved his arms to and fro. A toothy smile was displayed on his pudgy face. The collar of his shirt was damp with saliva, and his curly brown hair was unruly and tangled. There's no keeping a child looking presentable for the entire day.

"Hungry?" she asked as she went back outside to fetch the mail from the transporter box next to the door. Bills, bills, and more bills. It was a good thing that she got paid today, on both jobs.

She glided into the living room where her grandparents sat. Her grandmother purled absently at a skein of pink yarn with her knitting needle. She had a far-off look in her eye as she rocked in her chair. The drone of a TV was heard. Her grandfather was skimming over some old text—_Les Miserables _by Victor Hugo. 

_"¿Qué, ningún saludo para nosotros?"_ asked her grandmother in a thick, Hispanic accent. Her tone was less than enthusiastic, more morbid than anything: as if she could care less whether she had or she had not.

"_Buena tarde, abuela. Bonsoir, grand-père. ¿Cómo era su día? Allait-il comment votre jour?"_

Blank stares.

"_La casa necesita ser limpiada. Los pisos necesitan ser barridos. Las cuentas necesitan ser pagadas. La cena necesita ser hecha. El muchacho necesita ser lavado. Y nuestras ropas necesitan ser planchadas._"

Imagen just looked at them for a moment. There was no love in this bleak house, just the love she felt for James and even his couldn't be confirmed. She charged onwards to her bedroom, one of the only decent rooms in the entire apartment, and shrugged off her tote-bag/purse and kicked off her sneakers. Then, slipping into her worn ballerina slippers, she tied her abundant hair into a knot before slipping into some sweats.

The work wasn't that dreadful. She'd done it so much in her time here that it was a routine. It only took her an hour to do the housecleaning and another hour for the cooking. On Fridays, her grandma refused to eat anything but enchiladas with diced tomatoes. A pitcher of strawberry lemonade was mandatory. She skipped dinner in order to prepare James for bedtime and to give him his dinner. Finally, at about midnight, she finally had some time for herself. She used the allotted time to eat her repast and to soak in a lavender and chamomile bath that was soothing to her somnolent body. 

The cordless phone chimed its endless tune and Imagen was compelled to answer it by the gruff voice of her grandmother. She pressed the talk button. "Hello?"

"Hey Jen," Aerin chirped from her own phone.

"Hey, what's up?" Imagen asked as she began to drain the water from the bathtub—her private bathtub. With a scratchy towel she dabbed her wet skin and began to oil her body with something from Bath & Body Works, one of her few luxuries.

"Oh nothing," she replied. "I just got home from the Gym. I was buried in paperwork."

"Yeah, you did have a lot of challengers today."

"Yeah. I beat all of them."

"That's _great_," Imagine said.

"Your sarcasm ceases to amaze me, Jen."

She grinned light-heartedly. 

"So," Imagen began as she began to blow-dry her hair until the mass of tendrils were blown bone-straight. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders and to the middle of her bronzed back. "What's up with you and Prep Boy?"

"Prep boy? _Oh!_ You must mean Duncan? Nothing's _up _with us." She paused before saying, "whatever gave you that idea?"

"Just a hunch," Imagen answered as she began to profusely comb her hair. "Stop trying to play me, Aerin. You're a sad-ass liar. Believe me, I know that you like him; but I don't understand why you like him. He has got to be the most annoying bastard in Celadon. James is more interesting than him."

"How _is_ James?"

Imagen looked through the crack of bathroom door and into the dimly-lit bedroom. James lay curled in a fetal position smack-dab in the middle of her bed. His thumb gingerly placed in his mouth as he sucked on it in content. "He's fine. He's over there sucking on his thumb again. I have to break him out of that."

"It'll stop in time."

A moment of silence passed.

"How's David and Erika? Are they doing fine?"

"Yeah, David and Mom are doing fine. Mom's been sick for a few days so I've had to do the physical and the study-based training. Those little kids were so horrible. This one kid released a Paras and made him use stun spore. It wore everyone out. I'm still worn out."

"Guess that's how it is when you're the Leader and everything. By the way...you never answered my question. What do you see in him?"

"Fine," she exasperatedly groaned. "If you just _have _to know—"

"Don't try to use that psychological stuff on _me._"

Aerin grinned. "Well—(her voice was a little high there)—you can't deny that he is good-looking."

"I think that I can. I _know_ that I can. As a matter of fact, I am."

"And he knows a lot about grass pokémon. Mom tells me that he always knows the answers to her questions in class."

"That's because he's a show off."

Aerin grunted. "And he's nice...funny, even."

"He has got to have the worst sense of humor in the world."

"Imagen, it sounds to me that someone's a bit of a hater."

"And who might that be? I just don't like the guy. I get weird vibes about him. And I don't like the way he walks into the room and goes about things. He has the most smug expression on his face. I just feel like taking his head and slamming it into a wall."

"That's a bit much, don't you think?"

"That's how he makes me feel." She then walked into her bedroom and pulled back the covers so that she could tuck James in. He looked cold. Besides, it was her instincts to do so.

"You know how he makes me feel." She sighed in content. "Sometimes I feel jittery inside." 

"Damn, you barely even _communicate_ with him. If telling him stuff about pokémon is actual flirting, then what has this world come to?

"(Sighing, she went on) You know, as much as I dislike him—and that's a lot—if, you like him, then I guess it's my duty as a friend to guide you in the right direction and to accept your decision. But, I think that you can do something more profitable than dating him."

"Thanks for practically contradicting yourself."

"Practically being the key word. I don't know why, but for some reason, I get the weird feeling that he thinks that he's some sort of player. And I do not want to get you hurt. You're my girl. Besides, James cries enough."

"That's very heartwarming. Awe, I think I feel a tear in my eye."

"Ha ha, very funny, Aerin."

"I'm going to try and be more...I don't know—less...job-orientated?"

"If you say so. I'll be the faithful observer that I always am. But, of all things if you do wind up together, do not propose any double dates or anything. I don't want to have to deal with him any more than I already do."

"Fine, fine."

Imagen hear a raspy voice from outside her door yelling, "_Imagen, viens-ici: à la salle de bains! J'ai besoin de l'assistance!_" And she knew exactly what that meant. "Aerin, I have to go. See you later. Bye."

"Imagen, is—?"

But she'd already turned off the phone. 

****

*~*

The next day, Aerin decided that it was a good time for the trainer's, as well as their pokémon, to get into peak physical shape. Naturally, Duncan agreed with her, for he hadn't worked out in a while and, in order to remain as a good figure of eye candy, it was necessary. Therefore, he brought a suitable pair of work-out clothes, a beater and some nylon shorts, to the locker room. There was a large girls locker room, however, because of the shortage of male testosterone, he had to resort to changing in the lavatory. 

While in the lavatory, he met up with Aerin's older brother, David, who also was going utilize the equipment. Duncan hadn't really met him before, so now he took the chance to introduce himself—I won't get into the minor details of the introduction for there was nothing unique about this particular one.

With Boomer's necklace fastened around his neck, Duncan strode into the large room that was chock-jam-packed with the most advanced equipment. Fitness was a big priority in the Celadon Gym, which surprised him because it was mainly run by girls and well...he wasn't used to them being so devoted to it.

All the girls were clad in either spandex or something of a similar nature, much to Duncan's enjoyment. _There are benefits in being the only guy after all. What a great view!_ They were doing squats and all sorts of things that made him forget where he was, and what he was supposed to be doing.

He released Boomer from his pokéball. Then, immediately afterwards Boomer brushed up against and positively beamed at being in a room with so many humans and pokémon. 

"[Ooh. Me so happy to be here!]" he darted to the other side of the room and back, not winded at all. He was obviously energetic. He was practically bouncing all over the place.

Duncan couldn't help but to grin to himself as he moved himself to the chin-up machine and began to use it to his advantage. It was kind of exasperating, considering his absence, but he didn't let it show. There was a bevy of women around him! How could he?

"[Ooh! Look Duncie! Me so strong,]" he informed him as he went over to a stack of weights and pulled up and fifty-pound one with relative ease. Duncan was impressed.

"That's really good, Boomer. Here, try a hundred!" Duncan grasped the weight with one arm and held it so that Boomer could maneuver his vines through the middle ring and wrap them around the sides. Boomer did as expected and, with a loud grunt, raised the weight high above his head.

"Good job!"

But Boomer was looking a bit, red. His eyelids were rapidly blinking and Duncan believed that the slight projection on the surface of his skin could have possible been a vein. This was when he got worried. His body went tense as a crowd of pokémon watched the feat that he was performing.

"[Look...a...piece...of—_ah!_]" he squealed he fell exactly sideways, which set off a train reaction. The weight that he'd been holding got flung into the stack of other weights, thus creating an avalanche that clipped every pokémon, and Duncan, in the legs, thus tossing them up in the air. A few of the girls shrieked as they jetted out of the room and Duncan was left with more than just a sore ass. Boomer, along with all the other pokémon, had swirls in the eyes and was dazed.

As if the moment could _possibly_ get any worse, that was the time that Imagen and Aerin decided to stroll into the room. They gawked at the damage. Imagen shook her head in disapproval. "I told you! Now look at this mess."

Aerin was clearly embarrassed of the fiasco, and of the fact that Imagen was partially right in assuming that he was untrustworthy. "There must be a clear explanation for all of this."

"Yeah, the dumb-ass over there made all of this happen," she countered. "That's the wimpy way out. _Be_ authoritative." When she saw that her friend was engulfed admiring her crush's _crushed_ expression, Imagen bit out, "Do something!"

"What happened?"

_Now there's progress_, Imagen said as she dropped her head into her hands.

There was no way he could possibly lie about this. He was about to explain what happened when David came back into the room and spoke up, "It's my fault. My Tangela was lifting weights but slipped up and, to make things short, all of this happened. Duncan just got caught in it. He was a bit too slow."

Aerin dubiously looked from her brother to Duncan and couldn't decide who to believe. "Well, who's going to clean it up?"

"I'll do it," Duncan volunteered. He was feeling a bit guilty of it all and he couldn't just let David do all of this alone. He had to thank him.

"Yeah, Duncan can do it," Imagen added. "Because, I think that he—"

David gave her the death glare, which made her plant her hands on her hips and roll her eyes at him. She didn't know where he got off defending someone that he didn't know. It was enough to make her want to scream. 

"I'll help," David told his sister. He walked back a few paces. "Come on Beechcombe, we can be done in about a half on an hour." And so they worked until every weight was in its rightful place. David explained that he did it out of male compassion.

"[Duncie,]" Boomer said as he inched closer to him. "[Me sorry for making big mess. Don't be mad at me. Please?]" Naturally, Duncan didn't comprehend, but isn't the puppy eyes and innocent voice a universal gesture? 

"It's all right. Nobody got—well, nobody was seriously injured."

"[Yahoo!]" Boomer jumped up and down and twisted while in the air till he passed out from the exertion. "[Pabola!]"

"[_Parabola_,]" she corrected. "[What is it, kid?]"

"[Duncie not mad at me! Me happy!]"

Parabola smiled. 

"[Wee. Me feel strong. Me lift weights again.]"

When Duncan saw Boomer approaching the neatly-stacked dumbbells, he literally jumped from his seat and pounced on him before he lifted his vines. "I'll buy some and we can practice at home."

"[Okay!]"

From afar, Imagen surveyed the entire scene. He was never so affectionate with Nasturtium. But, then again, she wouldn't allow him to be. But that wasn' the point! Her absence was a mystery to her and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. However, there was no way for her to pry the information from Duncan. As she rode out her frustrations on the stationary bike, Buster lifting a seventy-five pound weight over his head, she looked to all the possible explanations. However, her pensive mood was broken when she saw Aerin shyly sidle up to Duncan who, much to her disgust, was being looked on by a horde of females as he bench-pressed his weight.

"Look at him!"

"He has the best chest that I've ever seen."

"Break me off a piece of that."

"He can come home with me anytime."

"Oh my God! Is that his—"

And what made things worse was that he was reveling in the attention. He had even packed on more weight to show his durability. Although he was outwardly stable, his body was on fire. When he saw Aerin approaching him, he gratefully placed the bar on the rack. 

"Hey Aerin," he greeted her, flashing his most brilliant smile.

Her insides immediately turned into a goopy mush and felt like dying, as sappy as that might found. "Hi," was the only thing that she could manage to get out and even then, her voice was a bit shaky. Her ears started to tingle and she new she was getting redder by the second. Luckily, to her anyways, Duncan didn't _seem_ to have noticed.

"Are you finished working out?"

She nodded her assent as she unconsciously looked down at herself. She was sweaty and she knew that she needed a shower. Her hair was plastered to her forehead because she'd exercised so intensely. And her conservative shorts and loose t-shirt did everything but make her the least bit attractive. Why did she have to look so unappealing? 

"Yeah, me and Boomer are too," Duncan said. Speaking to her was a bit awkward, he had to admit. She was so much better than he was in so many areas and she was in a way, intimidating, but not in the sense that Imagen was. Intimidating as in he knew that in a match, he'd be annihilated. He had observed that—he'd watched five matches by now—Fabienne was hard enough: Aerin hardly ever resorted to using Parabola.

Aerin couldn't help but look back towards Imagen, whom offered little support but the roll of her eyes and the gesture that meant, "well, go on!" "Duncan... (giggling) this is really weird for me. Probably for you as well. But...(he smiled, knowing exactly what was about to ensue) I have two tickets to go see the Nutcracker Suite on Sunday and I would really like it if...uh...you came with me. I know that you're probably like, 'what? The Nutcracker Suite? Who does she think I am? Is she trying to say that I am—I have nothing against it by the way—gay?' And I would _completely_ understand it if you were offended by it. But—"

Laughing he said, "I'll go. Don't worry about it. I like ballets and operas." This wasn't the first time that a girl had asked him out and he was sure that it wouldn't be the last. He had nothing better to do. 

She exhaled, haven't taking a breath of fresh air in whatt seemed like hours. "Perfect. It starts at eight o' clock and it's at the Vintage Philharmonic Orchestra Theater. We'll have to use the subway and get a cab though."

"That's fine with me. Where should we meet?"

"At the corner of First Street and Cool Water Avenue."

"So, I'll see you then." Duncan lifted himself from the equipment and beckoned to Boomer who, consequently, came scampering about. 

"[Look what I can do! Look what I can do!]" he boomed. With Duncan and Aerin's attention, he swiveled the leaf and three razor sharp leaves became stuck in the ceiling that was just repainted not two months ago. He cringed, "[oops!]"

Aerin and Duncan looked at each other and grinned.

****

*~*

"Come on, Imagen! Wait up! I have to talk with you," Duncan cried as he jogged up to her as she glided across the sidewalk. She'd really gotten out of the Gym in a hurry.

"What do you want?" she scoffed.

"Why are you in such a hurry? It's a beautiful night. Don't you want to just take it all in?"

"Not with you. Seriously, Duncan, you smell like pure ass; and I am _not_ kidding. Go take a shower;" she shook her head as she said this.

Duncan instinctively sniffed under his arm to see if what she was telling him was the truth. He was a bit.._ripe_. "That's minor."

"As if this conversation is anything but minor. I really don't feel like talking to you right now. I have things to do and people to see." She rounded a corner right then, but he chose to follow her.

"Don't you mean it the other way around?"

"You're such an asshole," she seethed, quickening her pace even more.

But he matched her. Her legs might be long but his were longer, so it wasn't that difficult. "Takes one to know one." 

"Is it me or did you just sound like a preschooler?"

"That's a rhetorical answer, meaning that it doesn't need an answer."

"Then my suspicicions have just been confirmed."

Just before she went to turn yet another corner, he swiftly blocked her way with a solid forearm. "I hate it when people ignore me like this. Just hear me out, for once." She stopped and pouted her lips and tapped her foot impatiently.

"I know what you're trying to do to Aerin. You're just going with her because you want to take advantage of her. Well, if it's up to me, I'm not going to let it happen, because she's my best friend. And I don't want to see her get hurt, not if it can be prevented. So set your sights elsewhere!"

"It's not up to you; it's completely her decision. Besides, you're not a mindreader. You don't know what my intentions are. It is possible for me to like her, you know."

"What I do know is how men think. And I don't want her to be a victim, all right."

"How would you know anything about men?"

"I don't to tell you a god damn thing! You aren't even worth that!" She poked him on the chest. Then, stamping her foot, she yelled, "Would you please get the hell out of my way? I have a bus to catch!"

He stepped over to the side.

"Thank you!"

And he watched her as her retreating figure advanced further and further down the street...

****

*~*

Concluding Statements: Well, what did you think? Tensions are rising and people are going on edge. I liked delving into Imagen's character. She's one of my favorites. I love writing arguments as you can very well see. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review! Lol, I used BabelFish for the translations of Spanish and part of the French, so bear with me. Go to http://www.altavista.com if you need help!—The Duke of Briarcliffe

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	10. Chapter Ninth: A Pair of Blue Eyes

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*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Ninth: A Pair of Blue Eyes

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Written By the Duke of Briarcliffe

*~*

Author's Notes: Thanks for everything. Please enjoy this new chapter. And, due to the advice of Keleri and Marie, I will provide the translations of French and of Spanish. Hey, wasn't my newsletter pretty cool? —The Duke of Briarcliffe

****

*~*

"The teacher, if indeed wise, doe not bid you to enter the house of their wisdom, but leads you to the threshold of your own mind." —Kahil Gibran, 1883-1931, Lebanese Poet, Novelist

****

*~*

"I WANT A MATCH RIGHT NOW!"

"What?" Duncan dubiously asked. He'd been right in the middle of a conversation about the past night's events. The Nutcracker Suite had been a major success and they both had enjoyed it greatly. Everything was on key and they both looked pretty damn good, and thought so. However, surprisingly, upon Duncan returning her to her house, he had not received any sort of display of affection aside from the very-tame hug in which it was all-arms and no groin against groin. He couldn't deny that it was a bit surprising, or maybe even disappointing, but he knew that Aerin was a full-fledged innocent and that she is not the type to do anymore than the aforementioned on the first date—or probably until many more after that. 

"I didn't stutter. I said, 'I want a match right now'. And don't think that I'm going to go easy on you because Boomer is young. Besides, if you've been training at all, then you should at least have a _minor_ chance of winning," Imagen angrily repeated.

"Whatever you say, Jen," Duncan said. They hadn't even spoken to one another since the night on the street, when he couldn't even get out what he had to say—which he had conveniently forgotten during the lapse of time that followed. 

"Only my friends call me that and, the last time I checked, you weren't one of them. Imagen will do just fine."

"Jen, don't you think that you're overreacting just a little? I mean, more than you usually do?"

"I am not overreacting. I haven't had a match in a while and I know that Duncan obviously hasn't battled since he's been here; well, at least not with two pokémon involved. We both need the practice."

"If you really want practice, you should have a match against me," Aerin informed her. 

"No thanks, I prefer to challenge Duncan right now. You guys can practice something else later on, after the class is over, if you don't mind that is." Her mouth was pressed into an angry line and her eyes straightforward as she gazed into her friend's pair of blue eyes.

"Not at all," Aerin gave in. There was no point in continuing, for Imagen would match her word-to-word no matter the circumstance. It had always been that way, ever since they were five. Aerin couldn't argue—or at least argue and win—with Imagen for beans.

"Thank you. Now, Duncan, I hope your ready, because this is not going to be an easy victory." Then, she stomped onwards to one of the practice fields, which were about half the size of the official field, and waited for his arrival.

Duncan looked from Aerin to his necklace before marching to his destination. Aerin discovered that he didn't look like his usually buoyant, confident self, and it made her wonder. She'd looked at his records a while ago and discovered that he'd spent many years at Pokémon Tech. It was only just that she assumed that he had had prior experience. So why he looked that way puzzled her; it intrigued her. However, being a docile creature by nature, she remained in that state: it wasn't right to just question him about it.

Aerin stood there and waited for the match to begin. She discerned that Imagen was clearly pissed off and that something was wrong. And, with her hasty exit from a few nights ago, she started to worry if there was anything wrong at home. She knew her situation very well; and, even though she was already a slave to her grandparents will, things could possibly got words; but, she just didn't understand how.

Her thoughts were halted once she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned to see who it was and found that it was nobody else than David. They looked so unalike, even though they'd the same parents. Aerin took more after Erika and he more after their father, Faulkner. "What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing really; just watching those two have a match."

"Oh Duncan? And Jennie? She looks pretty heated."

"I'd say."

"But then again, she's always angry."

She stared at him. "That's my best friend you're talking about. I don't talk about your friends, so don't talk about mine."

He rubbed his chin and asked, in an unsure fashion, "If I remember correctly, it was just last night when you came home from some stupid ballet and commented that 'I wish that you would move out and take your prissy girlfriend with you.'"

"I don't remember any such thing."

"Uh huh. _Right_. Anyways, before you said that, you seemed to be in a bubbly mood. _I wonder why_," he lingered, slyly looking at her from the corner of his eye. A grin had begun to spread over his face.

"I went out on a date."

"I thought that you don't 'do' the whole dating scene," he said with an inquisitive air.

"I think that that is just you. You just pick them up from off the street."

"No," he droned, ignoring the last statement, "it's you. I mean, nobody really likes you."

His last statement summoned up the conversation that she and Imagen had shared the night before, and all of a sudden, she didn't feel too well. Duncan genuinely appeared to be enjoying himself. And afterwards, he very much seemed to be grateful that she'd invited him. She was torn between the truth and what she thought was the truth and, right then, her conscience was telling her that perhaps Imagen was right. _No! It can't be that way. He didn't even try to make any moves on me. Yeah, that's it. Duncan is cool; I have nothing to worry about._

"You looked a bit...perplexed," David commented. He frowned in wonderment.

"Oh, I'm okay. Why do you care anyways?"

"Brotherly duty. Otherwise, I wouldn't be bothered with you."

"That's comforting." She looked back to what was at hand and said: "Oh look. They're about to release their pokémon. I hope that Dunc—Imagen—they get a lot of experience."

"God, make up your mind!" 

She turned away from him and looked to the combat ahead. With someone as fiery as Imagen, this was bound to be at least entertaining.

****

*~*

"All right, Duncan. You'd better be ready, because I am." She reached down to her ankle bracelet and unclipped a shiny red and white pokéball from it. Then, she tossed it up in the air so that it would go into a graceful arc. "Go Buster!" A crimson energy beam precipitated to the ground, where it "splashed", and formed into the shape of a robust Bulbasaur. Buster smiled in a wicked way, which reminded Duncan of his trainer. You never knew what was going on in that head.

"Go Boomer," Duncan called as he pressed the silver button of the metallic ball. The energy formed a small puddle on the ground that soon materialized into a thriving, living creature that, upon its arrival, brushed up against Duncan.

"[Hey look! There's Buster.]" Then he looked around. "[What? Me no see any other friends.]"

Sensing his puzzlement, Duncan informed him that they were participating in a pokémon battle and that this was where he used his special powers beat his opponent. Appearing to have somewhat comprehended, Boomer put on his most steady face—which wasn't that steady at all, more comical than anything—and waited for instruction.

"Good luck, Boomer!" Aerin called. Then, seeing Imagen's angry glared, she added, "you can wear him out, Buster."

"Who's side are you on, Aerin?" Imagen queried.

"I'm neutral."

Imagen stared Duncan deep into the eye before calling out. "Use your razor leaves, Buster."

Automatically did Buster leap into action. His strong, powerful legs pumped, causing him to trot even faster. With a little shriek, four leaves were hurled at the unsuspecting Boomer. Boomer cowered and fell to the ground, evading all but one, which grazed his derrière. Boomer shot into the air and shrieked out his pain. Aerin couldn't help but giggle.

"You have to keep a steady face, Boomer. And, it would really help if you jumped out of the way of any distance attacks," Duncan explained. "Now, show him your razor leaves."

"[Yahoo,]" he cried as he threw his head forward and launched a surprising seven razor leaves at Buster. Instinctively, Buster released his vines and whipped each one to the ground, which produced a loud—_thwack! _Overwhelmed, Boomer began to sniffle.

"[They didn't hit him!]"

"Don't be discouraged; you have to just keep on trying. Now use your vine whip attack."

"Tackle him before he attacks."

Buster took off, his mouth clamped shut and his fiery red eyes matching his trainer's temper. He was pretty fast for a Bulbasaur: it was something that he and Imagen had worked on. She'd melded him into a lean, mean fighting machine. He was gaining on Boomer fast, and Boomer had only just released the vines, which went in all the wrong directions. Afraid, as Buster neared him, a translucent red barrier formed an energy barrier around the young pokémon. Unable to move out of the way in time, Buster barrelled onwards, remembering that that move didn't eliminate all pain. The collision made a loud crashing noise, and the force caused Boomer to fly back a few feet. But, recalling that Buster had also been blasted back, Boomer continued the attack, using his inertia to whip Buster over his head. 

"Great maneuver!" Duncan cheered.

"What?" She shook her head. "The match isn't over! Buster, use your vine whip attack and slam him!"

Whatever pain that Buster felt was vanquished right then as he did as he was told. Boomer was too busy cheering to dodge the assault and pretty soon, he was entangled in Buster's web of vines. Soon afterwards, he was being pulled towards buster, and believe me, he making a boisterous hassle out of it.

"[Me don't want to go! Me don't want to go!]"

"You can gain the advantage if you use your vines also."

Boomer obeyed. Pretty soon, they were a grunting and pulling bunch of pokémon. However, after about a minute of struggling, Buster began to drag the spunky Boomer closer and closer to him.

"Loosen the slack on your vines and charge," Duncan commanded.

Buster was sent high into the air, but he hadn't let go of Boomer. Boomer too was sent flying, over Buster's head to be exact. Both skidded across the ground and winced from the friction that had alighted on their skin.

"[Me can't go on. Me tired!]"

"You can't give up just yet. We're so close to winning. Try to tackle him."

Buster countered that with a tackle of his own and pretty soon, they were dashing about the arena, occasionally jumping into the air and slamming into each other in the middle. Both were panting now, but Buster was much too stubborn to give in and Boomer was much too loyal to Duncan to just quit.

"We have him, Buster. Look, he's tired. Now, use your leech seed attack and finish him off!"

With the last rations of energy in his body, Buster jumped back many feet. A loud growl was emitted from his mouth as the bulb upon his back turned a blinding white. Then, it pulsated and ejected a large yellow seed into the air which, like a comet, had a tail of energy trailing behind it.

"Look out!"

But Boomer was much too fascinated by the maneuver to equivocate. He was awe-struck. "[ Whoa! Cool! Me want one of those!]" Only at the last minute did he even attempt to move out of the way, but by then, it was too late. Sprawling green vines smothered his body and, as if on cue, red energy traveled through the vines and zapped Boomer senseless. In an exasperated heap did Boomer fall to the ground after getting the life zapped out of him. The seed dutifully returned to the bulb, leaving Buster more than just rejuvenated. He was exuberant.

"Excellent work, Buster, as always." Imagen stooped down and hugged the sturdy pokémon close to her chest. He beamed while in her warm embrace as she said soothing words.

Duncan, however, spent a very long time trying to comfort the heartbroken Boomer, who had gained an amazing sort of zeal in pronouncing that, under _no _circumstances, would he _ever_ be involved in _another_ pokémon battle _again_.

****

*~*

The night was still young when Madison ventured outside of the loft and onto Bijou Boulevard. The sun had just dipped below the horizon and a beautiful crescent moon spread its mellow light across the landscape. The streetlights had just flickered on. He was on his way to the Pokémon Center.

He didn't know that Imagen worked there so, meeting her behind the counter was a surprise—a very pleasant surprise. She didn't look too happy though. Instead of looking straight ahead like she usually did, she glanced down at the slick counter with her face supported with an open hand, bored. Upon seeing him enter the facility, she put on a decent smile and said, "Hey Madison."

"Hey Imagen," he said, not really sure if he wanted to expand upon the simple greeting. He decided to let her have the prominent role in the conversation because he was sure that if he asked too many questions, she would grow even more irate; and that was the last thing that he wanted, or needed.

"How's it going?"

"Fine. Just bringing my pokémon in for a treatment."

"Oh, you have pokémon? What type do you collect, or are you just a random trainer?"

"I really like water pokémon," Madison told her. Scratching the back of his head he added, "I guess that I get it from my mom. She's the Cerulean City Gym Leader." 

"That must be nice. Sometimes I wish that my mo—_uh_...it must be nice," she said quickly, leaving much to be desired. Madison found it strange, and slightly suspicious, how she just changed up her sentence like that. He shrugged it out of his conscience. _Maybe it was just a slip-up_.

"Yeah," he agreed. Smiling, he thought of Ms. Waterflower and Ashley sitting down in their little cottage and eating some food, one of his mother's Princess Dolls, probably the Poliwhirl, sitting in the middle as an ornamental centerpiece. He had to call them that night.

"I'll take your pokémon, if you want. That weirdo Nurse Joy is out sick, so I'm stuck with doing her job. I'm glad that I'm getting paid overtime."

"I would too," Madison said with a laugh as he handed over his three pokéballs. While doing so, they briefly touched hands. Hers were so soft and smooth. He wondered how they would feel on his face... When he noticed what he was thinking, he quickly colored. Imagen, however, appeared to be unaffected, and went about her work saying that "I'll be done in about ten minutes. You can go sit over there if you like." 

He scanned over his surroundings and found that there was a videophone booth over in a secluded corner. Immediately was he drawn there and, within seconds, was scanning his telecarte and dialing the seven digits of his home phone number plus the area code. After three perceptible rings, the screen flickered on and Ashley was there on the screen.

"Madison! Mom, Madison's on the phone!"

"Nice to see you too, squirt."

"I thought that I told you not to call me that. I'm thirteen, not twelve," she haughtily told him.

"As if that makes a very big difference."

"_It does!_"

"All right, I believe you. Anyways, how's the training been going?"

"Great! I caught a Pupitar the other day near Silver Cave. It is so awesome. He doesn't like to move a lot, and may even be a bit grumpy at times, but with my soothing touch, I'll win him over in no time."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"I just am, okay?"

"Fine, fine. Where's Mom?"

"She just tripped over one of the Poliwags. Oh, here she is. I'll talk to you later, kay? Call me on my pokétalky sometimes. Bye, big bro."

"Bye Ash."

Then, Misty's face appeared on the screen. She was absolutely beaming at the joy of speaking with her son. And, she was stunningly beautiful for her age. Her big blue eyes gleamed with health and exuberence. Only a chevron of gray hair streaked her carrot-orange hair which was in a long queue that trailed down her back. "Madison!"

"Hey Mom."

"It seems like I haven't spoken to you in ages."

"Mom...it's only been like a week."

"Well to me it's been like a month."

"Oh, wow. So, how's the Gym coming along."

"I lost for the first time in two months to some girl named Hillary Jenkins. You'd better tell Aerin to watch out for her, she's good."

"I will. So, how are you, Mom?"

"Same old, same old. Doing what I have to, to get by. There's not much to do when you've been on countless pokémon journeys with people as nosy as Brock and your father." Her cheerful mood evaporated into a somber one in a matter of seconds, which made Madison worried.

"Have you talked to him lately?" he slowly asked.

"I told that bastard not to call me again, except for when you were here. He said that you haven't called him; therefore, he didn't know that you were gone. He wanted to know why."

"I might give him a call...one day. Just not now."

"So where are you?"

"At the Cheapside Pokémon Center. I have to heal Bubbles, Pendragon, and Junior."

"How are they?"

"Fine."

"Well, son. I'm going to let you go for now. Call me in a few days. I'll be here. I love you."

"Love you too."

"Bye."

"Bye, Mom."

****

*~*

It must have been about two o' clock in the morning. The whine of passing cars had become barely audible. The moon was at its highest point in the azure expanse called the sky. It seemed to make the stars shine even brighter. A light breeze swept through the landscape, picking up tiny amounts of clutter and making them into funnels in the middle of sidewalks. And Duncan was sound asleep on his futon in his usual sleeping apparel. Boomer was resting in his little bed, on a set of fluffed pillows, making soft, mewling noises, and Madison was probably doing the same.

Duncan had been having a dream when he heard a tiny knock on the door. Naturally, he thought he was still having the dream, so he ignored it. That was until, it came again, and this time much harder. Duncan shifted his position and pulled up the thin, green sheet over his chest, having become a little chilled. But when it happened the third time, he was sure that it was real; as a result, he struggled out of his bead and trodded across the floor, making a rest stop at the refridgerator for some water to clear his parched throat. 

Not even bothering to ask who it was, he turned the brass handle and pulled open the door. "Who is it?" he asked, in a voice much like an inebriated lush who had painted the town red that very night. There was no reply and, from what he could discern, nobody there. _I must be hallucinating_.

But he was rather sure that he'd heard a knock on his door. Leaning forward into the hallway, he couldn't find anything. To the left, nothing. And then to the right...there was a dark figure there. However, still drowsy from his slumber, he wasn't able to ascertain that it was there.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

No vocal reply. The only reply was a rock-hard punch to the throat, whose force sent him sprawling across the floor and writhing in his place, while scrambling for the essential mixture of gases, mainly the oxygen. Then, everything went dark. That was when he lost all hope of survival...

****

*~*

****

Concluding Statements: Ha! There it is. I've finished yet another chapter. I've finished this kind of early, so by the time you read this, it'll be a few days old. However, during that time, I can edit it so that it'll be virtually flawless. I hope that you enjoyed this and I graciously accept your comments and/or criticism. Hope the match was satisfying. (Marie, lol) Hey! Does anybody know the name of the guy scientist who did research on Omanyte and Omastar? I need to know! —The Duke of Briarcliffe 

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	11. Chapter Tenth: Crawling in the Dark

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*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Tenth: Crawling in the Dark

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Written By The Duke of Briarcliffe

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Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Going to keep this one short. Lay back, grab a Clearly Canadian, and let the good times roll. —The Duke of Briarcliffe

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*~*

"What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say." 

— Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1803-1882, American Poet, Essayist

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*~*

"GET UP, YOU'RE NOT DEAD. WELL...NOT YET ANYWAYS."

His revival was much easier said than done. Duncan had been sinking further and further into an abyss that started off as a beautiful turquoise that transformed into a serene cerulean right before his eyes and then into a tranquil navy and lastly, into a melancholy black. From the depths of his conscience, he saw a bright beam of light towards the water's surface; however, the beam didn't pervade the thick layer of mental unresponsiveness that he was trapped in.

"I said to get up," a harsh voice persisted.

He began to float. It was a slow, steady ascent and the serene cerulean, though not so serene because it'd been tainted with scarlet, thus making a sedate violet, proved to be the thickest layer to pass. Radiance showered on him as he was submerged, and dazedly did he look around at his surroundings for a clearer understanding.

His throat was throbbing and sore. A stinging pain circulated through his body, each wave sending him more and more discomfort. He could hardly breathe. The attacker had got him right in the Adam's apple, and he was afraid that if he was to utter a single statement, he would sound like a six year old. So, he decided not to speak after all.

It was still dark in the loft, and he didn't know who the intruder was. The identity just had to be uncovered. His very life was on the line, however, he thought that he would die more peacefully if he knew whom his murderer was. His vision was still hazy, and he felt color-blind. 

"Hello?"

In a swift movement, the intruder grabbed his arm, the hand being gloved with smooth leather, and yanked him up to his feet with a surprising amount of strength. Duncan swaggered, unable to keep his balance. And then, just when he thought that he was steady, he got slapped down again—this time being a punch to the jaw that made him fall into the couch.

He let out a low grunt. Whoever it was packed an amazing punch, that was for sure. He was afraid. There was a tingling sensation in his groin and he was afraid of what the consequences might be. After all, he did have dignity. Peeing in his pants was the last thing he wanted to do. He needed help. He frantically looked around.

"Oh no," said a mechanical voice, "you're not going anywhere."

The voice was so robotic. He knew that it could not be that of actual human beings. Terror attacked his very being; he felt like crying for his mommy to come save him. Reflexively, his knees were drawn to his chest and goose bumps dotted his skin.

A few seconds seemed to have lasted for minutes, or even hours. The anticipation gripped his veins. His death was now certain, and he felt so defenseless. But then, after many more minutes passed he realized that plan of action would be necessary. Here he was, a _young _man over six feet tall and weighing one hundred and eighty seven pounds, shivering like he was a little mouse, while the cat loomed high above him, ready to pounce. He couldn't go down like that. He couldn't go down while knowing that he at least had a chance. He had to fight for his own. Everyone holds the divine right to fight for their lives. 

But when to strike?

"I've been watching you for a while lately, Duncan. And I know your ways," the person droned. "And now...you're going to pay for your behavior." Whoever it was pulled out a shiny object that glinted in the soft moonlight. Duncan's heart skipped a beat as the object hovered ever more closely. The knife gleamed on his cheek, and without turning his face one-degree, he watched as it ran over his skin, near the jawbone. His fear numbed the pain of the blade. He could hear the person breathing. 

It was now or never. 

He sloppily dived for the intruder, clipping the anonymous person in the waist, pushing whoever it was with his body. The person was dragged along by the force until it came into Duncan's mind to stop, causing the person to slide across the floor. It was practically noiseless, like black silk oozing between a person's fingers. Pausing, Duncan looked at the person who lay on the floor. He was masked—that much he could discern.

But that pause was his downfall, literally. In one fluid motion, the person spun on his back, whipping out his legs, kicking Duncan to the ground. His head hit the ground pretty hard. It seemed as if a headache began immediately after his untimely descent. Rolling a few paces, Duncan leaped to his feet. When he could feel the other person regaining their balance, he charged blindly to where he thought he was. Missing entirely, a sharp elbow dug into his back, felling him once more.

A strong arm grabbed him and sent him into the wall farthest away from the bedrooms. His back tensed from the impact. A slicing sound was heard as the culprit landed a one-two punch to his abdomen, knocking the breath from his very body. Swinging violently, the culprit ducked and added one more punch for style. Then, grabbing Duncan's shoulder, he fell to the ground and used his leverage to send Duncan high above his head by way of a steady leg.

A bone-chilling laugh rang through the air, as Duncan lay paralyzed on the floor. But the culprit's fury was far from over. Grabbing a long, bare foot, he spun Duncan around, his body much like an axis, and sent him skidding into the front door. A shiny knife pounded on the door as it embedded itself into it, just centimeters away.

The moments that followed were very still and very quiet. There was no audible sign of Madison or Boomer beginning to stir; the noise hadn't awakened them from their slumber. And Duncan was severely outmatched. He felt so weak right then, not being able to handle the culprit that held his life in the palm of his tactful hand.

"What? No more energy left to fight? You're weak and you're pitiful. A disgrace to be called a man and an ignominy to be called a human being. You're not even fit to be called an organism."

Duncan was unsure of what was awakened inside of him, but the next thing that he knew, he was off and had lifted the person, who was lanky by some measure, high above his head. He didn't care about the expensive coffee table that was about to be damaged, he wanted this person disarmed and defenseless to. But, litheness was then taken to another level, for, before he could realize what was happening, the person had worked himself out of his grasp and legs were coiled around Duncan's neck. Quicker than the eye could blink, Duncan was back on the ground once more. This time...with a splinter stuck in his cheek—and it is _not_ the one farthest from the ground. And, to make things worse, he was thrown back against the door. 

He was a wheezing and panting heap up against the door, peering at what he thought was the person whose own body was a lethal weapon. He'd better not try any more desperate maneuvers, because that's all that they were desperate, and when one is desperate, things don't always come out as planned. This criminal, this fiend, was indefatigable; there was not one influx of breath that could be heard from the agile killer, showing his stamina.

Feeling that all was lost, Duncan lolled his head up toward the ceiling. That was when a slight projection caught his attention. He couldn't tell what color it was, but he knew that it might be helpful: vital to his survival. He braced himself. He was going to count to three. One...two...three! He jolted up towards the sky and flicked the switch. Light filled the room. The moment of truth.

A shooting pain seared through his very eyeballs, causing him to fall back into the door and rub his eyes. The criminal grabbed his shoulders and flung him towards the ground, where he turned him onto his stomach and harshly placed his leg on his shoulder blade and pulled his arm up.

"You think that you've got me, when you don't even know at all!" He pulled even harder, triggering a prompted groan on Duncan's behalf. He shut his eyes as the pain briefly paralyzed him. Turning his head ever so slightly towards the right, he saw that the black boots were kind of..._petite_. It was highly improbable that these feet belonged to a guy...which would only mean that this was a woman...which meant that he could rush her one last time. Once she'd released his arm, he used his arms as a means of support and did the most intense push-up of his life. She lurched back. Then, clambering up to his feet, he rushed her into the door with all his might, she letting out a light groan.

Now he knew that it was a girl. What else could explain the way her body felt against his? She donned all-black apparel and a black ski mask and black gloves. Her breathing was short and labored from the intensity of his gesture and her body stiffened as she tried to get out of his grasp. He was squeezing the breath out of her with his masculine bear hug, and her legs kicked and squirmed. Then, out of the blue, her head jerked forward and grabbed his shoulder (with her mouth). He automatically let her go. His intimation left him wide open for a well-placed head-butt. He lurched back.

"Who are you?" he asked, as the girl thrashed at him with ready fists.

"_The Avenger_."

"Of what?"

"_Of pokémon_," she said, bruising his lip. Licking his lip, he engaged in an arm-lock with her and somehow made it so that he was positioned behind her, and she was in a headlock of some sort. He pulled the hat from her face and practically died.

"Yeah, that's right," she said in her normal voice (without the synthesizer), breaking free from him. She whirled around. "It's me. And I know what you did."

"_Imagen?_" His thoughts were in a frenzy. Every single blasphemy in the world must have sputtered from his mouth and his eyes were very crazed. His face was contorted into an expression of confusion, he was absolutely flabbergasted, disbelief, and disgust.

"Yeah, that's me." She pushed him onto the couch, making it so that she was the one that he was looking up to. "And you deserved every single thing. You know why? Because you're a demon: a really rotten _mother******_. You deserve to be punished."

"What the hell did I do?"

"Don't play dumb, you bastard. You very well know what you did. You should rot in hell. Nobody deserves that, nobody." Her resolve was wavering; he could hear it in her voice. And, in spite of this, he couldn't help but to feel a bit worried about her, even though she was the vessel of his turmoil.

__

"Nobody deserves what, Imagen?"

"To be abandoned!"

His heart traveled amazing lengths to reach his throat. He knew that he had been found out and he couldn't utter a damn thing to make himself seem innocent, or justified, especially in her eyes. "Imagen..._I...I_..." he stammered on his sentence, something that he had rarely dumb. He always could form his sentences before. 

"Don't say a damn word. Don't say a goddamn word! I don't want to hear it." She paced back and forth from one chair, past the obliterated coffee table, and to the other chair. Then, with an infuriated grunt, she slapped him across his face as hard as she could, causing his head to snap. He heard an indistinct crack on his neck, but it wasn't broken.

She stomped over to the door and threw it open and said softly, "I'm finished Nasturtium. You can come in now." As a result, a scraggly looking thing slithered into the illuminated room with a downcast face, her violet eyes hidden. Her leaf was no longer lush, but was withered on the edges. She looked like she'd been to hell and back again.

"Nasturtium," he called out, surprised. She looked up to him, her face melancholy and sad, no longer bitter; however, it quickly fell back down again. Imagen lifted her up and gave her a hug and whispered soothing words into her ear. "Don't worry, he's going to take you back. I'll bet my life on it. I'm going to make him take you back."

"[I'm tired...and hungry,]" she said in a hollow voice. Immediately, Imagen rushed to the refrigerator and pulled the crisper door open, and took out a random fruit, which Nasturtium weakly ate.

"Do you see what you've done to her? (She didn't give him time to answer the question.) She looks like shit! And it's all your doing. Her leg is fractured. Did you know that? Oh no, you didn't. It must have happened after you threw her out of your door. Oh, don't look so confused Duncan. I was there."

"But how?"

"I was walking home from a late night at the Pokémon Center. It was raining like hell outside, but I kept on going. And as I was passing this building, I heard someone yelling, so I stood behind a tree and watched everything unfold. And it broke my heart. And I hate you because of that."

"Why do you hate me? I've never done anything to you. She's not even your pokémon."

"That is not the point. The point is that you abandoned her. You threw her out. I saw you! You had her by the scruff of her neck. I didn't immediately pick her up, because I thought she'd be better off without you. But, when I saw her unconscious in Celadon Park, when I took James to the playground, I knew that I had to take her in. But she won't eat like she's supposed to, and she's losing weight, drastically."

The report startled him. He'd never expected for her to get sick or anything of the sort. He was so blinded by fury, that he hadn't realized the possible outcomes. But, in spite of all this, he still didn't want to take her back. He voiced it.

"Oh no, you're taking her back. She is not my pokémon. I have not captured her. So you'd better make room for her pokéball on that necklace of yours, petty bastard."

"I'm not. She's out of my hands. She's on her own. She was a wild pokémon before; she can be one again."

"Apparently not, or otherwise, she wouldn't be in this type of condition."

"I have another pokémon now. She's nothing but a bad seed. And she's blocking my dream."

"Of what? Of using people and giving them away. I'm sorry that in your little world, everything works out perfectly, but in the real world, things don't always work out. Shit happens. People have to own up to their responsibilities. And that's exactly what you're going to do right now. I won't stand this again."

Her last statement puzzled him. She'd mentioned this James in the former paragraphs and she had added again to her very last statement. Something was troubling her. She was getting careless. And that was something that Imagen never did.

"Again? What do you mean, _'again'_?"

She clutched her hair. "How many times do I have to tell you that it is none of your goddamn business?"

"How many times do you have to keep on bringing it up?" he countered.

She jutted an accusing finger at him. "You don't know anything about me. Your world is too bright for you to ever be able to comprehend what I've been through. You know nothing. Nothing!"

He looked at her oddly. Her eyes had begun to glisten and she fallen beside him on the couch. She looked away before turning back to him, looking him into his eyes. "Imagen...is everything all right?"

"No! Nothing is right anymore. Nothing!" She couldn't help but to whine. Everything was just falling onto her at once. She couldn't keep everything bottled in anymore in that airless bottle called her conscience. It was about to be opened.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything. The position I'm in. I don't know what to do. Everything is done because it has to be done. I can't be a normal teenager. I have responsibilities and I do my best to take care of them. I have a responsibility to my grandparents, to James, and most of all...to my mother."

She began to explain:

"I live with my grandparents. Both of them are tri-lingual, but one speaks French, and the other, the worse one, speaks Spanish. After my mother died, about a year ago, I've been living with them. Abuela works me to death. If it's not cleaning, I have to cook, or do her fucking hair, when she can't see a goddamned thing. Ugh, as much as I hate to say this, she's the biggest bitch in the whole world. I never get any credit for all the things I do. I work two jobs and am in a class to become a Gym Leader. A Gym Leader of all things! It's the only thing that I like to do, the only thing I want to do, the only thing I want to be. I still haven't paid for all of my dues! Grandpère is as blind as a bat too. But at least he's nice. Do you know that I have to wipe his ass everytime he takes a shit? It's disgusting!"

"How did your mother die?"

"A car accident. She was in a car crash with her asshole of a boyfriend one night. They had been drinking, and they didn't see the light turn red. An oncoming car ran into them, on the passenger's side, where my mom was, and she died instantly. That asshole is off somewhere, living life while I'm stuck with his child."

"Did he...rape you?"

"No he didn't rape me. If that bastard even attempted to put his hands on me, I would have sliced his balls off. No. He got Mom pregnant and she had James. The night of the crash, I'd been babysitting at home. James was so young back then. He couldn't understand. He's only one and a half now. I love him so much. I would do anything for him...I...I...I would die for him."

"Have you tried to contact him?"

"Yeah. But what's the use? He won't do anything. He won't even pay child support. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not his half-sister; I'm his mother. He's not my brother, but he's my child. I'm taking care of him. I'm doing all the things that a mother should do. It's all her fault! If Daddy wouldn't have died, none of this would have happened. Now I'm stuck. And everyday, I just hope that my grandparents would die: it would make everything so much easier. But it seems like whenever you want something like that to happen, it all seems to be so prolonged. I just wish this all would blow over, but it won't. It never will. So I have to keep my head up. I have to stay strong. I can't cry. _I cannot cry._" Her voice was very high and distraught.

"You _can_, Imagen, just let it all out," Duncan said in a soothing tone. He looked over at Nasturtium, who had climbed upon the couch and gotten in between the two. Her haggard eyes peering at theirs. Unconsciously did Imagen succomb to his strong, warm, secure embrace. And unconsciously did Duncan rub her soothingly on the back and say comforting words as her body heaved with vicious sobs. Soon enough, when Imagen had cried herself to sleep, Duncan too fell into a deep sleep, but this time, it was of his own goodwill. 

****

*~*

Concluding Statements: Another breathtaking chapter if I do say so myself. I absolutely loved this chapter. I've never done anything quite so...murderous (???), but it's in preparation for scenes to come in future fanfictions. So what do you think? Did I do a good job? I hope so. I need all of your input. It's necessary for the proper developnent of my writing skills and style. So Marie, was this battle up to par with you? ;-) —The Duke of Briarcliffe


	12. Chapter Eleventh: Get Over Yourself

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*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Eleventh: Get Over Yourself 

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Written by the Duke of Briarcliffe

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Author's Notes: It's nice how there are even more people reviewing after all this time. Thanks a lot to Flamo and Blonde and DiamondIncredible. I was like, so confused. I was like, "Huh?" who are they? LOL. I appreciate everything. And to Shadow, I'm sorry for leaving you flabbergasted. And Erriel, she wasn't going to really knife him; it was just a little torture. —The Duke of Briarcliffe

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*~*

"Remember, people will judge you by your actions, not your intentions. You may have a heart of gold—but so does a hard-boiled egg." —Anonymous 

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*~*

THE VISION OF HIS BEST FRIEND SNUGGLED UP with his crush in the wee hours of the morning with scarcely any clothes on was not very heartwarming when Madison waltzed in for his daily Pepsi and Oreo cookie. He was a junk food maniac yet somehow he managed not to gain much weight. He was one of those naturally slim types. Well, upon entering the room, his mouth quite fell down to the ground and his vision changed into a friendly shade of red.

"What the hell is going on in here?" he roared. The noise caused Duncan to bolt upright, making Nasturtium fall to the floor and land on her head. Luckily, she wasn't hurt, for her neck wasn't very long and, from a distance, seemed as if it blended with the rest of her body.

"Why are you yelling?"

Madison's eyes went wide. He pointed at the unconscious Imagen. "This is why I'm yelling. _She's_ why I'm yelling. What is she and Nasturtium doing here? With _you_?"

Duncan looked down at the ground towards Nasturtium and then back over to Imagen and said. "It's a long story and I'm much too tired to tell you the entire thing. Besides, we didn't do anything if that's what you're worrying about. You're my best friend."

"That hasn't stopped you before," he mumbled as he wolfed down his cookie and took a long swig of his Pepsi. He threw the can into the trashcan after it was promptly crushed and leered back over towards Duncan. "What the hell happened to you? You look like you got hit by a car and got run over."

He touched his cheek and winced from the stinging pain that was produced from his gesture. He thought that that damn splinter had gotten embedded into his very buttock and he probably had a red hand-mark on his left cheek. "A little conflict is all. I'm fine."

"What time did she get here—"

"Madison! I said that I will tell you everything later. I wouldn't try anything on Imagen. Besides, she wouldn't let me if I did. Now just hop off," he exploded. Madison only behaved like that over girls and it's evident that it irritated Duncan very much. Duncan got up from the floor and awkwardly sat down beside Nasturtium and stroked her cheek. She flinched.

He stood up, suddenly. "You must be hungry. I'll go get Boomer and you two can eat together, all right," he said, hurriedly. He felt obligated to be nice to her. Imagen had made him think about things in a whole new perspective. He understood her behavior much better now.

Before Duncan could mount the two or so steps that led to the bedrooms, Boomer came gliding across the slick hardwood floors and used his vines to launch himself into Duncan, who consequently fell back down the stairs. "Boomer," he said with a laugh as he picked up himself and Boomer. "Hungry?"

Nasturtium watched the merry couple skip their merry way towards the refrigerator and pull out an assortment of foods. And, much to Nasturtium's surprise, Duncan began to neatly slice the fruit into sections and place them into a large metal bowl. She strode over there and placed herself next to her young counterpart. But Boomer was a voracious eater, and pretty soon, Nasturtium was forced to whack him away from her; she wasn't able to get any food!

"[What was that for?]" he whined, very much hurt. He'd never been hit like that, except from Buster—but that was in a match; therefore, it was to be expected. But, since she _was_ a Chikorita, he felt some sort of natural kinship towards her. And friends, or family, are _not_ supposed to hit one another.

"[Have you ever heard of sharing, kid?]" Nasturtium gobbled up as much as she could, the fruit giving her the short energy boost that she needed so much. Boomer nudged her and said, "[Me have to eat too!]"

The smaller Chikorita began to push up against Nasturtium, which made her uncomfortable and very agitated. "[Kid, I don't want to hit you again. Be smart and just walk on the other side of the bowl and eat like a civilized Chikorita.]"

"[What's 'civilized'?]" Without waiting for a response, he began to push her once more. He made a little game out of it: every time he pushed her, he would do it from a different direction. It was quite fun and he expressed his mirth very boisterously.

"Come on, Boomer. You both can share. She's not at her best health right now," Duncan lightly scolded him. Boomer obediently marched over to his side of the wide bowl and dutifully munched on the apple and nut mixture. He peered over at Nasturtium under lowered eyes and a hint of a grin remained on his lips.

"[Me like you! We be best friends in no time!]"

Nasturtium rolled her eyes at him and continued to eat her fill. There was so much going on in her head. She felt weak. She felt like should collapse at any given moment. Whether Boomer knew it or not, that single attack had left her reeling inside. She was sick; and it wasn't just the sickness that she gave off: it was much more than that.

With Boomer gleefully tagging along, Nasturtium lolled back over to the couch and circled around the a spot near Imagen before lying down. Observing carefully, Boomer then mimicked her gesticulation and laid himself down next to her with a bright smile on his face. When he thought she wasn't looking, he snuggled in closer.

"What are we going to do about Imagen?" Madison asked after he had come from brushing his teeth until they were a sparkling white. "I mean, she has to get home and change out of this Goth stuff."

"We should just let her sleep. She needs a break. Maybe I can call in for her at Café au Lait," Duncan responded as he glanced at her sleeping form. She looked really nice, not at all like the hothead that she was while awake. 

"Since when did you get all caring? Correct me if I am wrong—although I am not—but I believe that you said that she was the biggest bitch in all of Celadon. Oh wait! You said that she was the biggest bitch in the whole world!"

"Oh did he?" asked Imagen as she suddenly rose from her siesta and sat upright, rubbing the grime out of her eyes. Her cheeks felt that weird way that they do after one finishes crying, like something evaporated on them. They felt cold. "I didn't think you had it in you, Duncan. It's nice to know that you have some guts. Next time, say it to my face; I wouldn't do any less for you."

Duncan grinned nervously. "You can go take a shower if you want to. We have some towels and you can borrow one of my sweatshirts if you want. I mean, you're already late for work, might as well take the whole day off."

"That sounds nice," she said, looking pensive. "I mean, I've never missed a day before." Getting up and stretching, she asked, "Where's the phone?" Madison directed her to where it was and then, after she was gone, he rushed over to Duncan.

"Is it me, or does it seem like you guys just spent the night with one another and it's the morning after. (Mimicking his voice, he said:) You can borrow one of my sweatshirts if you want. Give me a break, dude."

"If you ask me, I think that you're just paranoid."

"Me? Paranoid? I don't think so. Besides, I didn't ask you," he defended himself as he went into his room. Duncan shook his head. _I think he's just a little jealous of me._ The thought was empowering in a sense because it was always the other way around.

Moments later, Imagen returned to room and asked where did he have some food. He told her that there was some Honey Bunches of Oats in the cabinet and some milk in the fridge. She began to prepare her breakfast when, all of a sudden, she tensed up and said: "I have to go right now."

"Why?"

"James!" she exclaimed as she pulled at the hem of her ribbed black sweater and smoothed her black boot-cut jeans. She looked around frantically before setting her eyes on Duncan. Then she rushed towards him, arm extended, and it seemed like she was trying to grab him down there, so he squirmed back in his seat. "Calm down," she hissed as she retrieved her handy pocket knife from a crevice in the middle of the cushions. "I am not trying to grab your balls."

Then, without so much as a goodbye to him, she said, "It was nice having you with us, Nasturtium. I hope that you, Boomer, and Duncan get along now."

Duncan stood up. "So that's it? You're just going to leave...even after the night that we spent together? I'm pretty sure that your grandparents won't mind keeping James for a little while."

"Duncan," Imagen sighed. "You're sounding like some virgin in some stupid teen movie. Get over it. I want to put that behind me."

"But why? Didn't it make you feel better?"

She placed a hand on her hip and looked at him sideways. "It conjured up horrible memories. I don't like to think about that or else I'll cry. So I don't. (When she saw that Duncan wasn't exactly comprehending she said,) Yesterday wasn't a very happy night. I'm happy that you were nice enough to comfort me when I needed a shoulder to cry on and all but I don't want, or need, your pity."

"I don't pity you. I _sympathize_ with you. Besides, it's raining outside and you don't have an umbrella. I'm coming with you."

"What? No you're not. I can get there fine on my own."

"I insist," he told her, going into his bedroom and slipping on a shirt and a pair of jeans and his sneakers. When he returned, completely ready, Imagen was fuming. "I said that I was fine. I don't even need your damn umbrella."

"Well you can't strut around with a ski mask on. You'll get arrested or something. We can catch a cab, my treat. Come on Boomer and Nasturtium, I can take you to the Pokémon Center."

"I don't know why I'm just standing here, letting you boss me around."

"It's because I'm right. I'm being nice to you for a change. Be nice to me for once," he explained as he fetched his pokémon—both of them, he hadn't gotten Nasturtium's ball destroyed—and gave Imagen his windbreaker. Then, when Duncan was waiting for her in the doorframe, Imagen consented to follow him down the hallway.

"So, where did you learn those moves?"

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*~*

The danky apartment was unlike anything that Duncan had ever seen or even heard of. Even his grandparent's house didn't smell that bad. _Perhaps_, he thought, _that it's because they live in a really big house_. He stepped over a random piece of clutter and walked behind Imagen like she was his bodyguard, protecting him from some unknown threat. 

In the sitting room there sat two ancient people in rocking chairs. One ran his fingers along the leaves of some hardbound text and the other purled at some multicolored yarn, rocking in content. When they heard them advancing, the man-ancient croned, "_Où as-tu été, le soir dernier? _(Where were you last night?)"

"_Bonjour, Grandpère. J'ai été à la maison de mon ami, _(I was at my friend's house)" she replied in a friendly tone—well as much as she could manage when she knew that before she could depart, she would have to complete a list of different chores.

"_Quand est-ce que tu as quitté? _(When did you leave?)" he asked.

"_Le soir dernier, Grandpère. Maintenant, je suis bien. Je n'ai pas fait le mauvais chose. _(I'm fine now. I didn't do anything wrong.)"

"_¡Pare el interrogar de ella, viejo tonto! Si ella desea ser una puta,_

entonces déjela ser una. Apenas sé que ella estaba en la casa de algún muchacho. Puedo oírla en sus pasos. (Stop interrogating her, old fool! If she wants to be a whore, then let her be one. I just know that she was at some boy's house. I can hear it in his footsteps.)" she yelled.

"_Abuela!"_

_"¡No levante su voz en mí! Soy su abuela. ¡Si no fuera para mí, para_

nosotros, usted y el muchacho estaría hacia fuera en las calles! (Don't raise your voice at me! I am your grandmother. If it weren't for me, for us, you and the boy would be out on the streets!)"

Imagen was silent. After a scorching glare aimed at her grandparents, she grabbed Duncan by the arm and dragged him into the hallway, where James contentedly sat with a tiny thumb placed in his mouth, producing soft gurgling sounds. "Hey James," she said in a cheerful voice as she hoisted him into the air and smothered him with kisses. Then, she scrunched up her nose and said, "Ewe, you stinky. Yes you are; yes you are."

The whole scene was so endearing to Duncan. He'd never thought that Imagen held the capacity to smother someone in as much affection as she did her brother. A smile couldn't help but tug at the corners of his mouth, even in the midst of such chaos. 

After she changed his diaper, she went about her chores, demanding that if Duncan helped, she would floor him...again. She was so speedy. Usually when someone does something in a hurry, there lies discrepancies; however, with Imagen, there were none. Within two hours or so, the house was spotless, James was cute and clean again, and food was prepared.

"_Je vais revenir à vingt-deux heures. Je prends le bébé. Adieux!_ (I'll be back at ten o' clock. I'm taking the baby.)" she announced as she handed Duncan the stroller and closed the door. Once the door was locked, she let out a loud sigh of relief.

Duncan barely had time to choke out an adieux to the ancients.

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*~*

They took a long walk around Celadon Park. The rain had ceased to preciptate and the sun was at its zenith in the sky, radiating its presence. The flowers looked beautiful, taking in the Sun's warm embrace. Droplets of water hung suspended at the tips of the colorful petals and the sweet frangrance of their nectars filled the air. The smaller types of pokémon drunk from these sources and some of them ate them. It was incredible.

The pokémon were having a grand time, all except Nasturtium, who was struggling to keep up with the others. Her eyes were bright with fascination but not with health. Duncan couldn't help but begin to worry, despite the harsh treatment she had endured on his behalf.

"You have to take her to the Pokémon Center really soon," Imagen told him as she watched little James jumping around with the pokémon. He'd taken a divine interest in Nasturtium's leaf and was constantly trying to grab it. "That's a no-no, James," Imagen reminded him, but he still went about in his little game. Nasturtium fended him off with a stray vine, a weak smile on her face.

"I know, I know," Duncan repeated. "Everything is just so sudden. It's weird adjusting with her again. She's so different and so changed. And now that I think about what I did, I feel like such an asshole. But I know, I just know that it it's partly her fault too."

"Correction—_you_ were the one who threw _her_ out. And you were an asshole long before then. Take my word on it. Every bad thing that you do, comes back to you, you know? I'm glad that it gave me reason to torture you. I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

Duncan wryly grinned. "That's...nice. Why do you—why _did_ you hate me so much? I mean, I was never mean to you until after you were mean to me," he asked, looking over at Imagen. She had a nice profile now that he thought about it. Everything was perfect and in proportion.

"I can't stand it when I see someone act as if they're on top of the world, and that everything needs to be handed down to them instead of them going to get something for themselves. Maybe I'm just jealous—but I'm not—because I've had such a hard time in life." She suddenly looked at him with a raised brow. "Who said that I like you?" 

He could understand where she was coming from. Dismissing her last statement, he continued. "So, that gives you the right to hold a grudge against that person?"

"No. But you...you were special. There's just some people that you don't like, no matter what they do to try and make it up to you. You just get bad vibes sometimes."

"And _I_ gave you bad vibes? That's impossible. I'm not a bad person, or...at least I don't think that I am. I'm as nice as a lamb."

"Actions speak louder than words, Duncan," she told him as she focused on Nasturtium's weakened gait. "And what you did to Nasturtium was unforgivable. _I'm _surprised that she's handling everything so well. I know that something's been up with her. She looks so sad sometimes."

They walked on in silence for a few more moments. 

Nasturtium had tried to play with the other pokémon. She even managed to do a little "jumping the vine" with Buster and Boomer. However, after she stopped, she began to pant...loudly. Then, fine beads of perspiration appeared on her forehead. Her movements became even more sluggish, and legarthic. The sun seemed to be scorching her leaf; she could almost feel the edges turn crispy and wither away. Pretty soon, she was stumbling over her own, pointy feet. And then, all of a sudden, she just collapsed onto the ground the soft green earth, unmoving except for one minor twitch.

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*~*

"It seems like your Chikorita is suffering from a mild case of depression and of dehydration," Nurse Joy proclaimed as she came out of her operating room, pulling off her plastic gloves. "Oh! She has a little bit of fluid in her lungs too."

"A _mild _case of depression? Any case of depression is anything but _mild_," Duncan exploded. It was the same old klutz from before, and just laying eyes on her made him boil over in rage.

"Hey, hey, hey! All of that isn't necessary, Brian."

"It's Duncan," he corrected her.

"Okay, Brian."

Duncan rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. Here he was: in a Pokémon Center, his pokémon in some little insulated box, and a ditzy Nurse Joy who acted like she didn't even know the enormity of Nasturtium's condition. It was enough to put someone over the edge.

"_Well?_"

"Well what?" Nurse Joy asked with wide, interested eyes.

"What should I do? How long will I have to stay here? Hell, is she even going to survive? Come, give me a resolution," Duncan said impatiently. There's some people that just bring out the worst qualities in a person, and she was one of them.

"Uh...I think that she should stay overnight for about a day or so. I'll even feed her through a little tube. And, once she is released, she must not take part in any harsh physical activity until she is better and she must get lots and lots of water so that that cute little life will get greener," she giggled. "Also, once she is better, you must come and see me again."

"For what?"

"I'm a pokémon psychiatrist too, you know," she proudly heralded.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Imagen spoke up. "As weird as it may sound. People come here all the time."

Duncan nodded in understanding, yet a hint of uncertainty still lingered in his conscience. What fool would ever come to yet another fool so that they could hear how their pokémon was fairing?

"Hey Imagen, do you mind staying for tonight?"

"I called in earlier, Joy. I'm taking a day off."

She placed a hand on her forehead and pouted her lips. "But you're not warm. Hey! You're not sick! You lied to me!"

"I said that I was taking the day off. You know, what you did a few days ago when I had to sub in for you that whole time?"

"Oh! So you're taking a vacation? Where are you going? I hear that the Seafoam Islands are nice around this time of year," she informed her with a nod of her head.

"Damn it, Joy! I'm just taking a day off—one day. What don't you understand? Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?" Imagen scoffed, making her voice deliberately slow.

"Crystal clear," she chirped with a wide grin. "Why don't you go home for the night." Then, she leaned in closer and put a hand over the right side of her face in an effort do disguise what she was doing. "Why don't you and your boyfriend go spend some quality time together, hm?"

"He is _not _my boyfriend, Joy," she seethed. 

"He's kinda cute though," Nurse Joy said as she looked at him from the corner of her eye. Imagen looked too. With his thick black hair and tall, muscular frame and majectically purple eyes, she made up the supposition that he wasn't bad-looking. But, she knew that deep down inside, if they were to go out, they would be the most ill-matched couple in the—oops, that would be too sappy, in Duncan's words—they would be the most ill-matched couple...ever. 

****

*~*

Concluding Statements: This was a transitional chapter. I guess the last chapter really took a lot out of my creative and imaginative genius. Just kidding. ^_-! Please read and review. Thank you! Oh! Give _Replacement_ by Erriel a look. It's pretty cool. Or _Karania the Legend_ by Lauren Black, or _The Immortals _by Keleri! Your grateful author—The Duke of Briarcliffe


	13. Chapter Twelfth: When Two Become One

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*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Twelfth: When Two Become One

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Written by the Duke of Briarcliffe

*~*

Author's Notes: Yes, I know. The name of this chapter is a Spice Girls song, but I thought that its meaning deals with a lot of stuff that I hope to accomplish in this chapter. Read and enjoy! —The Duke of Briarcliffe

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*~*

"When I'm working on a problem, I never think about beauty. I think only how to solve the problem. But when I have finished, if the solution is not beautiful, I know it is wrong." —Richard Buckminster Fuller

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*~*

A MONTH HAD ROLLED BY very much like a Miltank whose child was being carted away by some no-good Houndour—or rather, like a Miltank on a rollout rampage. The grass, or the days, were flattened down into nothingness and the only things that remained prevalent were Nasturtium's extended stay at the Pokémon Center, often visits to the Gym, the metamorphosis of the lovely Moon, and the rising and falling of the Sun.

During that month, Aerin and Duncan had engaged in one more date. They went to see a flick at the Regal Cinema in Downtown Celadon. The movie was good. Both of them looked nice and they had a good time. Afterwards, they dined at a small restaurant that wasn't too far from the cinema. Everything was as perfect as it could be.

Nasturtium's condition had worsened, for she had suffered from a bout of pneumonia and, under Nurse Joy's _advice_, as superfluous as that might sound, she stayed there until she was completely healed, physically. The process was a slow one that involved frequent visits on everyone but Aerin's behalf and a lot of thinking and some re-evaluation on Duncan's. Guilt is a horrible attribute to have on one's conscience.

Naturally, the conditions at Imagen's apartment did not improve, readily, that is—most was temporary. She went on about her daily routine: work, train, cook, clean, etc; however, many times was it changed when, at the spur of the moment, Duncan or Aerin would have her visit for a while. Those were, surprisingly, the highlights of her existence at that time.

At the present moment, Duncan was just on his way to the Cheapside Pokémon Center in order to retrieve Nasturtium. The sky was darkening early, proof of the oncoming autumn, and a slight breeze grazed the landscape. Boomer was affectionately cradled in his arms, the two having bonded during the lapse of time, and was yipping out little statements or whatever, all things that Duncan couldn't comprehend, naturally.

"[Hooray. We get Nasturtium and she play with me!]" he cheered in a happy voice. At times, it seemed that his eyes were always shut in an expression of blissful happiness and that his mouth was always curved like a "U".

Duncan nodded and said, "That's right," whenever he thought it appropriate. Once prompted by this little cheer for him to go ahead, he chattered away very much as he did before.

"[We gonna have so much fun! I'm even gonna let her eat first, so she won't be angry. When we get home, we're gonna jump over each others' vines and wrestle too. Ooh! I can't wait.]" He absolutely boiled over in excitement.

A breeze whispered a secret message in his ear and he snuggled closer to the warmth of Duncan's broad chest, producing a wide grin on his behalf. It was almost like raising a child. He decided that, if it was that pleasurable, he wouldn't mind having more than just one in the future. Boomer always brought out the good side in Duncan's personality.

The building loomed a few meters before him. "There it is, Boomer. We're here," he pointed out.

"[Yea!]"

The glass doors parted when his presence was determined by the automatic sensors and the pair strolled inside. Imagen was off tonight, so he didn't have anyone to laugh with after his rendezvous with Nurse Joy. She was behind the desk, looking very much like a mannequin with that cheerful grin and those big, expressive eyes.

"Oh, hello...Duncan, right?" she asked, narrowing her eyes as she questioned his true identity.

"Hello. Where's Nasturtium? Is she ready to come home yet?" he asked her.

"Oh! Nasturtium's in the back room, waiting for you. Why don't you just come with me (she added a giggle right here)? I'm sure that she's just _dying_ to see her trainer again."

_Great choice of words_, he thought as he followed her down the corridor. To the right, near a large metal door, there was yet another door made of a wooden material with a golden knob with a slot for a key. Down a foot or so from the very top of the door was a sign that said, **The Personal Room**. Nurse Joy pulled out the golden key and revealed the contents of the room.

Near a window framed by midnight blinds, the was a large, comfy looking desk chair and logically, there was a big wooden desk not too far away. On the desk was a golden lap with a beaded switch and a small stack of papers that were neatly shuffled and placed in one of the corners. The lamp radiated a soft, pearly light. On the opposite side of the desk, coming from the door, was an oddly-shaped chair with yet another one situated on its right. And, in the smaller chair sat the rejuvenated Nasturtium, waiting for their arrival.

Duncan was relieved upon seeing that her body was once more, plump and robust. Her chest rose up and down, in a gentle manner. The leaf on her head was as lush and green as ever; it swiveled on the top of her head in anticipation. Her fur was tan once more, like sandalwood. And, most importantly, her beautiful, sparkling purple eyes were shiny and luxuriant.

"[Nasturtium! Nasturtium!]" Boomer cried, quite literally. He wiggled and squirmed out of Duncan's clench; he dashed straight over to his comrade and jumped up on the chair and _threw_ himself on top of her. 

"[Kid? Why are you crying? It's not even that serious,]" Nasturtium asked, inconspicuously rolling her eyes up to the ceiling. She picked herself up and gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

"[But it is...serious! Me miss you so bad! Me wanted to be in hospital too,]" he explained to her as he trapped her in a tight embrace with his green vines. Tears of joy gushed out of his eyes like they were faucets.

"It seems as if Boomer really missed Nasturtium," Nurse Joy pronounced as she sat herself down in the chair, which seemed about twice her size.

Duncan falsely grinned. _No, really? Duh! Thanks for stating the obvious, Nurse Joy. I mean, it's right there in front of me, for the both of us to see._ Impelled by her gesticulation, Duncan sat himself down next to Nasturtium, whom, hesitantly, he rubbed on the head. She didn't flinch. What was done was done—over with.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, we're about to begin our little session. I hope that you don't mind."

"Why would I?"

She pensively stared at him for a few seconds, with the random blink of her eyes here and there. She rested her face on a propped elbow and twirled a skein of pink hair round her finger. "Hum...I don't know why you would mind;" she giggled. "Silly me."

"Can we get down to business?"

She leaned forward and intertwined her fingers. "You're right. Important matters lie ahead."

After she twiddled her thumbs for a few seconds, she said, "Well, we might as well start by asking Nasturtium exactly what happened...after you threw her out... Well, Nasturtium, I'm going to say a few words and you can nod your head when I am right, O.K.?"

Nasturtium nodded her head, a bobbing motion actually, and waited for Nurse Joy's signal. Nurse Joy opened her mouth, then paused, as if she forgot what she was about to say. Then, after seemingly having a debate with herself, said, "Rain."

Nasturtium nodded, meaning that it was raining.

"Where did you go?"

"Joy, I already know that. I just want to know what happened once she got to the park!" Duncan divulged. "Imagen told me that."

"Oh." She then said, "Grass."

"All of the park is covered in grass!"

"Not the pool," she immaturely reported. He felt as if she was about to blow a raspberry at him right then and right there. "Near water?"

Yes.

"Big?"

No.

"Small?"

Yes.

"Flowers?"

Yes.

"Ah ha! _See? _My technique is working already. Now we know that she went to that small pond, close to a small glade, that is surrounded by all those pretty flowers. I think they're called moonflowers. Were they white, Nasturtium?"

Yes.

"Now we have to see what she was doing there, or rather, why she went there," she whispered to Duncan. Nasturtium and Boomer heard the entire thing. She was a lousy whisperer.

"Did you used to live there?"

She was unsure.

"By yourself?"

No.

"Then you were with someone."

With a flat stare, she replied in the affirmative.

"[_Ooh! _Guess-y games—me want to play,]" Boomer cheered, but was soon cut short by a shushing noise by Duncan. He leaned in closer to Nasturtium, a smile still on his face. 

"Was it another human?" When she saw Duncan and Nasturtium's infuriated glare, she cracked a smile and said, "I was only joshing you two. Come on. Lighten up!" Loud sighs prevailed.

"Was this pokémon, a water type? Was it a grass type?" she asked. Nasturtium replied that he was a grass type—the pokémon that she was staying with that is.

"Good, we're getting somewhere," Duncan commented, fully interested in her statements to come. Once she revealed this to him, he felt as if it would solve a lot of problems by providing answers to her strange, rather abusive, behavior.

"Is that pokémon gone?"

A tear welled in her eye, yet somehow she managed to blink it back into where it came from. She'd cried enough. She was tired of being sad and glum. She hoped that her companion, her mate, was having a good time, wherever he was at that moment.

"So," Duncan began, summarizing all of her utterances into one synopsis. "After I kicked you out, you went down to Celadon Park. And I'm guessing that you met up at your secret meeting place with your pal—although I don't know how Joy could possibly know about it. But, when you arrived there, he wasn't there. And...his absence made you stop caring about yourself and fall into a state of decline?"

"You're good," Nurse Joy remarked.

Nasturtium nodded her head. 

"Therefore, he must have been captured or something because, he would never leave a pokémon like you, one so devoted in more ways than one, voluntarily." This caused a smile on Nasturtium's part. Duncan, no longer afraid of her, rubbed her on the head and said, "I'm sorry. Things are so screwed up nowadays. I wager that you never even saw it coming; much like I did when I kicked you out. Everything was so sudden. I hardly recognized myself."

"You're hair _has_ gotten longer since the first time that I saw you." When he rolled his eyes once more, she said, "You're _really_ good. _You_ should take over _my_ job."

"No thank you."

****

*~*

"[It feels good out here,]" Nasturtium announced as soon as the trio had hit the pavement and began their trek to the jewelry shop. A solitary leaf fell down to the ground and got poked by Nasturtium. She bent down her head to pick it up. Boomer, however, was way ahead of her.

"[Ha! I beat you. You too slow,]" he cheered as he proudly strutted down the sidewalk, the leaf gallantly raised over his head, a prize for all to see and marvel over. 

"[I resent that,]" Nasturtium seethed as she quickened her pace, only to allow Boomer to match it and walk faster. He never seemed to run out of energy. He just latched on to her whenever he could. It was cute in a sense, but it got annoying. A mischievous curl arched on her lip.

"[Hey Boomer, do you see that ever there?]" she asked, using her head-leaf as a guide. 

"[Ooh! See what? Me want to see,]" he exclaimed as he began to jump up and down, and all over Nasturtium might I add, in wonderment. After picking herself up from the floor she said, "[It's right down that alleyway. Hurry up and you'll catch up with it. Try to do it before Duncan notices that you're gone!]" Before she could finish her last words of encouragement, Boomer had already disappeared.

Relieved, she trotted back up to Duncan and walked beside him. He looked down at her and smiled. "It sure is quiet out here; don't you think so?" Nasturtium nodded and sneaked a grin once his gaze was directed onwards once more. 

They walked on, for another five minutes or so. "[He's been gone for a long time now,]" she soliloquized—that is, she said to herself. (I read a few of those whilst I was reading the Shakespearean tragedy, _Macbeth_, which I have to write an essay on.) 

People were beginning to come out for the lunch hour. It began to become a bit crowded and significantly warmer. It was best that she stayed close to Duncan just in case there was some fool who thought that they could really capture her. Feeling energized, she stuck even closer to him.

"[Oh look. There's the store,]" he directed. There was a long row of shops in front of them. The shades varied amongst each store, as did the style of architecture. Bright signs were either laminated onto the very window or painted on long banners in catchy colors. In the designated store, there were two people: one behind the counter and the other appraising the different specimens of trinkets and such. Displayed on the window was the name; in elegant goldenrod and luxurious forest green it read **Chandler Jewelers** **& Company**.

In order to get inside of the store, they had to cross the street. It was very busy. Cars whined as they passed or tooted their long, irritating horns. The air was thick with exhaust fumes that incited a lot of coughing and wheezing on both their parts. 

"Someone needs to develop a new energy source," he coughed, placing his hand over his mouth. When the light turned red and the sign flashed "**WALK**", Duncan said not to stray from the pedestrian lane as they traversed the street. Reaching the other side, they entered the store, and were graciously welcomed by the cashier behind the counter.

"May I help you with anything?"

"Yes," Duncan said, pulling off his silver chain with the solitary pokéball looped onto it and taking out a new Metallic Ball. "I would like to have Nasturtium engraved onto this pokéball and I would like to have it a loop attached onto it."

"Oh. Is that all? If so, that will be twenty five dollars."

Duncan forked over the money.

"Just give me about twenty minutes while I go to the back." She called over to the other person, a male, and asked if he needed anything, that she would be back soon. 

The guy couldn't have been anymore than seventeen or so. He had his eyes on the silver section in particular. After the woman had left, he turned around and greeted Duncan, being a friendly sort of person. He said that he a very healthy looking Chikorita and Duncan smiled, asking him if he had any pokémon.

"Yeah, I have a Chikorita too."

"What a coincidence: I have another Chikorita too." Duncan looked down, expecting Boomer to be there right by his side, but he wasn't. Terror gripped his conscience and Nasturtium watched as his eyes lit up in worry. "Where is he?" Looking down at Nasturtium expectantly, he found that her only reply was a shrug of the shoulders.

"What do you mean, 'you don't know?'" he dubiously asked, his voice raised about one octave or so, enough to make Nasturtium get a little bit agitated. She stared at him and said, "[I don't know. He just, disappeared.]"

"Is there something wrong," the young man asked.

"My Chikorita is missing. I have to go look for him. If the lady comes back, tell her that I'll be back shortly. Come on, Nasturtium; I know that _you_ had something to do with this."

She frowned and grudgingly followed him. Her steps were slow and deliberate. A loud click resounded after each tap of her heel. "[Well, it's not my fault. He shouldn't have fallen for the oldest trick in the book,]" she grumbled as Duncan threw open the door.

Once they were outside, the most unexpected thing happened. Boomer had practically caused a five car collision when he dashed across the street. A barrage of horns invaded everyone's eardrums within the radius of about one half-mile as Boomer hurriedly marched up to Duncan. 

"[Nasturtium! There _was_ something in that alley! I couldn't get it though. It ran away real fast.]"

A nervous grin was emitted from her mouth. She hadn't really seen anything, so this came as a surprise. "[See? I told you there was something there.]"

"[You should've gone after it. You're older than me.]"

She thought for a second before saying, "[But...if I went, Duncan would've been really worried out me, considering that I just got out of the hospital and all. You're in better condition than me.]"

"[Yeah,]" he gullibly agreed. "[Faster too.]" He began to laugh.

"[Ha ha,]" she falsely chuckled, then, mumbling under her breath, "[I could take you anytime.]"

After Duncan's worries were put to rest, the trio went back into the store. 

"So," Duncan said, making conversation as he waited. "When did you capture that Chikorita?"

"Little more than a month ago," he replied. "I was here in the city for a while last month. I'd been visiting my grandfather. I found him in Celadon Park. He's really nice, strong too."

Nasturtium leaned in more, in order to hear better. Then, once filled with an idea, began to rub her body up against Duncan in a very urgent way. She called his name repeatedly before he finally looked down at her. She had his attention. "[Ask him to release his Chikorita. Ask him! Ask him!]"

"Nasturtium, you know that I can't understand a thing you're saying," he reminded her. She stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. Then, she found herself head-butting him on his leg. He frowned as he asked, "What's gotten into you?"

The guy looked down at her and said, "She really perked up once I mentioned having a Chikorita. Maybe she wants to see him."

"Why would she want tha—" But then he remembered the whole session he'd just participated in. Maybe she thought that this guy's Chikorita was her mate from Celadon Park. Her very happiness probably rested on this so he asked him to release his Chikorita.

"No problem." He dug into his pockets and came out with a shining _pink and white_ ball with a heart on it. Then, reciting the magic words, the crimson energy soon forged itself into solid matter, and a healthy Chikorita was born...sort of.

Nasturtium tackled him with all her affection upon laying eyes on him. It was him! It was really _him_. She began to lick his face and cheeks and she released a beautiful mauve powder into the air that smelled like bananas and vanilla all rolled into one. She showered him with fondness...yet...none of it was returned.

"[Don't you remember me?]"

The male Chikorita backed away from her. "[I only love one pokémon and you are not her.]"

"[That can't be! _I_ am that pokémon. Who else would it be?]" Taking one step closer, with a bewildered look on her face, she placed a vine on his forehead and asked, "[Are you feeling well?]"

He recoiled. "[I'm perfectly fine...and I remember who you are. But I no longer love you. I love someone else, so would you please just back off and leave me alone. I don't want you!]"

These words were too much for poor Nasturtium to handle. The only reason why she continued to live was because she knew that he was out there, as lovesick as she was. It was her bosom plea. But now, to hear him utter those disparaging words was heartbreaking. It was mind-numbing. However, although her heart was frozen with having just suffered a catastrophe, the white-hot fiery depths of her anger was enough to melt it. Blinded by animosity, she extended her vines and coiled them round his head, and slammed his face right onto the hard stone floor. Satisfied, she stomped over to Duncan and pulled on his pants' leg. 

"What was all of that for?" the boy asked, after comforting his fallen pokémon.

"It's a long story. I believe that Nasturtium wants to go," he said as he proceeded to the door.

"But what about your stuff?"

"The name's Duncan Beechcombe. Tell her to hold it for me."

Unless he wanted her to return to her former ways, it was a dire necessity that they make a hasty exit.

****

*~*

Concluding Statements: Yet another transitional chapter. At least now you know why she was so bugged out. Speaking of bugged out, did any of you see the latest Pokémon episode? What the hell was up with Lugia? She was having a whack attack. And she looked so stupid while she was doing it. The Lugia in the movie looked different. That Lugia was cool. These two Lugia looked fake! While she was spazzing out I was like, "_It's not even that serious. Calm down._" Anyways, don't forget to review. Oh, read _The Fourth Key _by Marie: it's cool. —The Duke of Briarcliffe


	14. Chapter Thirteenth: Come All Ye Faithful

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*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Thirteenth: Come All Ye Faithful****

Written by The Duke of Briarcliffe

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Author's Note: Hey General Failure, the ball that the other Chikorita was in was one of those horrible Love Balls that makes the pokémon being captured, love the pokémon that weakened it in battle. Oh Marie, normally taking a Nurse Joy's advice would be logical; but this Nurse Joy is a complete and total ditz. And would you readily take advice from someone as ditzy as her? I don't think so. LOL. To Erriel, as much I would love to, I have not seen the movie. It didn't even come to my area, sadly. I think it's safe to say that many of us have grown out of Pokémon. Hope you like this. —The Duke of Briarcliffe

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"True friends stab you in the front." —Oscar Wilde

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*~*

BEING A CRISP LATE SUMMER'S DAY, DUNCAN FIGURED that a day spent at Celadon Park between friends and pokémon would be most enjoyable. Besides, it was one of those days when one has nothing planned and just wants to waste time, in hopes that something worthwhile would come along. Therefore, he was going to dress himself in something light and comfortable, a white t-shirt and some jean shorts, and he rallied up his newfound friends.

Madison was excited that he would be able to see Imagen yet again, though in less _compromising_ situations. He must have asked Duncan at least twenty times if she was able to come with and, to be absolutely certain, he called her himself. However, when the time came to speak—you know, after you say "Hello"—he choked up big time and ended up with a clashing sound ringing in his ear after a tacit five seconds.

Duncan walked in the room, brushing his already sparkling teeth, a crystal blue mechanism in his hand for the purpose. "Are more people coming, or something? _Hey_...did you just call Imagen?"

"No," he said quickly. "I was just checking out something." He was partially telling the truth. He was checking "in" to see if the person that he would be checking "out" later was going to be there. Besides, he had called her house or, in order to be specific, her phone.

"_Right_," Duncan said, with a stressed vowel noise. He retreated back into the bathroom, where a much needed gargle was in order. Rinsing his mouth clean and pausing to splash his face with some cool water and to lather a dose of Clean & Clear onto his face, he returned to the room.

"So I guess that we're gonna just buy some food while we're out?" Madison said. "It being a spur-of-the-moment-type thing and all. Dude, we have to learn how to cook one day."

"I'd say," said Duncan as he pulled the fresh-smelling shirt over his head and fastened his shorts. "We've never had to though, considering the circumstances that we were under."

"Yeah...you in a million-dollar mansion and me in a warm cottage and a very caring mother." He smiled as he reminisced about the old days. "It's nice how she ran the Gym and do other stuff but still managed to have dinner cooked and the house cleaned by 6:30 every night." 

"How's Ms. Waterflower and Ashley doing anyways? I haven't spoken to them in a while."

"Fine," he replied. 

"That's nice." He turned around and called out, "Boomer! Nasturtium! Come on: we're about to leave as soon as I get my sneakers on." He did a little dance as he wriggled his gargantuan feet into a fresh pair of tight, white anklet socks.

It seemed as if barely a nanosecond had passed when Boomer was right next his trainer with scarce an exaggerated breath. He bounded up and down and squealed in his glee. "[We going on a picnic!]" Nasturtium waltzed in a few seconds after him and, upon seeing him suspended in the air, declared that he just never stopped. "[Calm it down kid, it's just the park.]"

"[And that's why me so happy!]"

She groaned as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face. "[As annoying as that Kid is, you can't help but love him,]" she murmured before she was dragged across the floor by Boomer, who announced that it was time to go and that they had to hurry before the door was locked.

****

*~*

"You know Duncan," Aerin began as she looked deep into his eyes, "I never noticed that you had dimples until now." 

"Nah, really? They're right there for the world to see," Imagen informed her as she crunched on a tortilla chip that was oozing with thick, orange cheese. A dollop of it was stuck at the corner of her mouth and Madison wish he had had the courage to wipe it off himself. Instead, he remained glued to his seat on the ground.

"Yeah," Duncan agreed.

"Well...before you usually had this grave expression on your face. I swear, the smile I'm used to is the one that you do when you'd been called out or something."

"That nervous grin," Image added.

"Yeah; that one. Look, he's doing it again!"

Duncan did hid best to keep his composure, hiding it by guzzling a rounded bottle of water. After he finished drinking, he depressed the nozzle. "I don't have a nervous grin."

"_Right_. Hey Aerin, do you remember the first day when he came in, or that time when he went to call out Nasturtium and she wasn't there? That was some of the funniest shit I've ever seen."

"That's because you're evil," Duncan retorted. "Aerin was compassionate and nice. She wouldn't laugh at someone when he's down, right Aerin?"

She grinned. "I have to admit that I was laughing on the inside. _Come on! _ It was on the inside."

"Don't try to make him feel better about himself. He's already the most arrogant person that I know. Besides, if I remember correctly—and I always do—you did one of those "Oh-I'm-so-nice-that-I-can't-laugh-out-loud" type of laughs. The one when you put your hand over your mouth."

Changing the subject, Duncan asked, "Does anyone feel like having a pokémon battle? Hey Madison, you've been quiet all this time, why don't you battle Imagen?"

Madison narrowed his eyes. "I'd _rather_ battle you." He hopped up and pulled out one of his three pokéballs. It was one of the standard ones, red and white with a metallic luster that could only be enhanced as it was by the radiant sun.

"No need for the animosity, Madison," Imagen said with a smile as she jumped up to her feet and pulled out a blue scrunch-y to pull back her hair with. "I'll battle you. It'll be fun."

Feeling stupid, he agreed. She extended a lovely bronze hand and he cautiously shook it and smiled. Her very touch created a stirring sensation in his vitals and made his cheeks burn due to the influx of blood. "Good luck," he said.

"You make it seem as if this is the last battle of my life. Luck is on my side today; I'm going to win."

"And you said that Duncan was arrogant," Aerin sighed.

****

*~*

"We better just use one pokémon, considering that fact that I only have Buster; but he's the only pokémon that I need, right boy?" Imagen asked her Bulbasaur as she patted him on the head. She looked out in the distance and, upon spotting him, called out, "Come on James. Want to see Bulbasaur in a battle?" She lifted the beckoning boy with open arms and smooched him on the cheek.

_She's the most perfect woman in the world_, Madison dreamily thought as he surveyed the attention that she donned on both her pokémon and her safekeeping. She was the perfect mix: beauty, brains, depth, affection, wit, and—to Madison—even more beauty on top of that.

"I'm ready when you are," she reminded him.

"Oh...um...yeah. Go Pendragon," he called as he expelled the pokémon from its captivity. A vibrant pokémon with jagged edges and white marks on its breast was called forth. Its shiny black eyes sparkled and a warm smile spread over her face. After that, she dashed from her spot on the field and jumped into Madison's arms, where she placed many sweet kisses upon his face. "It's been a while, eh Pendragon?"

"[Uh huh!]" she affirmed as she snuggled deeper into his arms. 

"That's a cute Corsola you have there," Aerin pointed out. "She looks really healthy and strong. I can tell she's a young one though: her little horns aren't that long."

"Yeah, I just got her about a year ago."

"I like a man who's not ashamed of having a pretty pink pokémon. (A/n: Ooh! That's alliteration! I don't know how I do it sometimes. Just kidding!) You do realize that you technically don't stand a chance, right?"

The spirit of the impending battle seemed to have awakened a new spirit in Madison. "And how is that?"

"She is a water and a rock type pokémon, and you and I both know that Buster here has the advantage."

"But I have a strategy. And it helps that I was raised in the Cerulean Gym; so, I've encountered these things before. Why don't you go first?"

"Gladly," she replied. "Buster, start things off with a tackle." 

Using the taut muscles of his hind-legs, Buster sprung into action. The echo of the pounding of his feet resounded loudly in the area of the elite and bits of debris was flung unmercifully into the air. His voluminous eyes were settled, focused. He was ready to win.

"Tackle."

Pendragon waited until Buster was very close on her. That way, her tackle would have a greater effect, considering that it was all so sudden. The effect was enhanced by the fact that the few horns that she had were not by all means soft and light. Letting out a little cry, she ducked to the ground before jumping upwards. The maneuver caught Buster by surprise and hit him square in the jaw, knocking him on his back. Wincing from the pain before quickly setting it aside, Buster regained his equanimity. 

"Pendragon isn't as helpless as I thought that she would be. It shows that you've trained her very well," Imagen remarked with a determined grin. 

"I do try," he modestly admitted, his addictive personality beginning to shine through the labyrinth of intertwining leaves that had kept his _vrai_ character hidden for so long.

"Let's see if she can counter all of our attacks so well. Buster, fire off a few razor leaves!"

Buster barked out his concord, a low, rumbling sound, and took a few steps back. Then, rearing back his head before throwing it forwards, he launched a dozen round leaves at his foe. The motion was so quick and concise that the noise it produced was very much like his vines—and it's only obvious that you should know how a whip sounds by now in your lives.

"Harden."

"[Right,]" she exclaimed as she spread her feet farther apart on the ground in order to keep her stature and position. Then, a blinding light flashed in all the spectators' eyes as it washed over the petite pokémon leaving her coat shiny and renewed. The leaves created a sound very much like a blacksmith's hammer clamoring upon a slab of red-hot metal: almost a melodic chiming noise—like a celesta or xylophone.

"Impressive. It looks like I'm going to have to come up with another plan. Feel free to attack. Buster is as good in defense as he is in offense," Imagen broadcasted.

"Gladly. Pendragon, go on and use the spike cannon attack!"

A searing light once more washed over the exterior of the pokémon as her body prepared for the attack. After the powering up was completed, a wave of needles the size of the actual hypothermic needles pierced the air as they fell upon the dodging Buster.

"Bubble-beam!"

A mass of round, clear bubbles invaded the scene as they made cute popping noises on Buster's overwhelmed face. He winced and groaned as the bubbles inflicted torture on his face before breaking loose and regaining his senses. Angry, he threw out his vines which were swiftly wrapped round her body.

"Slam her."

A wail was heard as Buster effortlessly tossed the Corsola high into the air. Time seemed to have frozen in place. It was all so slow. Madison could only gape as he watched Buster re-wrap his vines around Pendragon and leap into the air; soon afterwards, Buster grunted as he slammed Pendragon deep into the ground, still soft from the Sun, rain, and Fertility.

"Penny! Are you alright?"

Pendragon opened one obsidian eye, the sparkle of health still glittered brightly. She let out a cute, airy sigh as she struggled to her feet, before falling down once more, creating a light thump.

"Ha! Buster, fire up a solar-beam. We're going to win this match."

It appeared as if the whole world, both the fauna and the flora and other inanimate objects, came alive right then. The sunbeams creating a glowing white energy that collected in the bulbous space of Buster's flower bud that was yet to sprout. Swirling into a mass of pure, untainted energy, Duncan let out a fierce battle cry as a stream of energy was blasted off in his opponent's direction.

It all happened so fast. The same dazzling light sluiced over her coat of pink and white—pinkish pearl and blanched opal. Within seconds, the energy was gathered into a huge energy ball. Pendragon struggled with the amount of energy she was in the midst of reflected. The power was much too intense for her, but she persevered. "Yah!" she cried as the ball was redirected to its source. Bowled over by the gesture, there was no chance in hell that Buster could've dodged the proof of her effectiveness by way of that mirror coat attack. His robust body was blown back several feet. Imagen rushed to his side. He was clearly dazed. After returning him, she gave Madison a warm smile. "You're good."

"My friend Pendragon did all the work here. I just directed her," he said matter-of-factly as he clutched her to his chest. Not only was he happy that Pendragon was getting stronger, or that he'd won the match; there was something else he'd accomplished...he'd gained Imagen's admiration.

****

*~* 

"I can't believe that all we've ate today was fast food. I think that I've gained like two pounds since this afternoon," said Aerin as she clutched her flat stomach. "I'm gonna have to work out after I leave."

"Don't worry about it Aerin," Madison said as he began to tie the yellow strings to the now-filled garbage bag. With a compact know here and there, it was bound. As a result, he walked over to the garbage shoot and opened the clear door before shooting the bag through it, where it plummeted to its death. "Me and Duncan eat fast food almost every day and look at how buff we are."

"Sorry, but you're just skinny," Imagen reminded him as she helped herself to a glass of water. When she heard his horrified gasp of disappointment, she gave him a smile and told him that she was just kidding.

"Don't you see me washing dishes over here? I hate it when people do stuff like that."

"Shut up. You know that this probably the first time that you've even attempted to wash some dishes," Imagen scolded him.

"It is," Madison irrefragably pointed out. "Somehow, he always cons me into doing it for him."

"So rests my case."

After wiping the plate with a bright green sponge and rinsing it under a steady stream of lukewarm water, Duncan placed it in the rack. "So what," he defended himself, "that doesn't mean that I can't dislike it. I'm pretty sure that you wouldn't appreciate it if I did that over your house."

"It's not mine," she snapped. "Besides, you wouldn't _be_ in there _long_ enough to get a glass of anything."

Duncan kept quiet until he finished up his task.

"[Hey look-y! You and Buster sitting in a tree. _K-I-S-S-Y-N-G!_]" He erupted into a fit of laughter as he fell down to the floor, belly up. Little spasms rocked his body, causing him to spin in little semi-circles. His eyes were shut tightly but the tears still brimmed on his long eyelashes. 

"[When you're going to taunt someone, be sure to spell everything the right way,]" Nasturtium seethed as she rose from her place next to Buster and Pendragon in front of the TV. She used her face to nudge him; however, her nudge was a bit too powerful, and it sent him rolling across the floor. His light frame bumped into Imagen's leg. It surprised her and soon afterwards, her glass was making a rapid descent towards the ground. Just before it hit the ground, it was saved by a pair of steady vines. "[Watch where you're rolling, kid.]"

"[But, but—you're the one who—]"

"[Hush,]" she interjected, silencing him. She began to make a proud exit from the scene in order to sit back down amongst her peers. But, halfway there, she found herself being tackled into the wall, where she narrowly missed a small painting from dinking her on the head. 

A triumphant Boomer stood with the potential weapon raised high above his head and said, "[Look! I can do the same thing! Ha! You not special,]" he giggled. If he were submerged in a pool of water, a mass of bubbles would have risen to the very surface.

"[I'll let you get away with that just this one time. And it's only because you're practically a baby,]" she growled as she bumped into him on her way to her newfound—chuckling, might I add—friends, leaving poor Boomer flat on his backside. As if nothing ever happened, he sprung to his feet and wedged his way in between Nasturtium and Buster.

"They're both little hell-raisers," Madison pronounced. 

"And you've just noticed?" Duncan asked.

"I think they're cute," Aerin giggled.

"That's the only thing that makes up for it."

A few minutes passed.

"Hey! I have an idea. Let's play Scrabble before we all go. That would be fun, right?"

"Sure," Imagen murmured. "Why don't we give each other makeovers while we're at it?"

"It's not like we're doing anything else," Duncan added.

"That's the spirit," Aerin congratulated him.

"I'm neutral."

"Then it's settled."

And so they pulled out an antique Scrabble board that Duncan had brought with him from Lavender Hills. It was wooden and shiny—well taken care of. After a certain point—when Madison absolutely declared that "_Hater_ and _Ya-ya _(adapted from the famous song Lady Marmalade)" were legitimate English words—they decided to give up on keeping score. Besides, they didn't need to have boosted egos on Imagen and Duncan's parts. After the Moon had risen to its zenith, a firm knock resounded on the door.

"I'll get it," Madison volunteered as he rushed to the door, slyly tugging at the hem of his carpenter shorts in order to relieve himself from a wedge-y he'd developed while sitting at the table. Upon throwing open the door, his face contorted into a threatening grimace.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Hey, what's the problem?" Duncan asked as he pulled himself up from the floor. Imagen and Aerin exchanged confused glances and turned to the doorway, trying to get a better look at the apparently unexpected visitor.

"I-I just came here to give—"

"How did you find me?" Madison roared.

"What's gotten into you? It's just the guy from the jewelry store returning my stuff. He's completely cool." Then, turning to the guy and taking the bag, said, "Thanks a lot. My friend over here is just being an asshole. Hey...want to come in and hang out for a second?"

Madison stared at his friend in wonderment. "What the hell do you think you're doing, inviting him into our apartment?"

"I'm being friendly. That's the _friendly _thing to do, you know."

"I want him out of here, right fucking now."

"Why are you doing this? You don't even know him!"

Duncan scrutinized the two people and couldn't help but to discern that there was a general presence about them that made the two seem alike. Other than that, he couldn't notice anything that would make the guy, whose name he hadn't picked up anyways, incriminating.

"I don't know him? I don't know him!" 

"I'll leave," the guy said, turning to leave.

"Wait," Duncan called after him, coming to no avail. 

"It was my mistake in coming here."

He shut the door and imperiously stared his best friend in his eyes. Madison's cheeks were flushed and his eyes were raging azure waves. Although he couldn't see it, anger—no, fury—pumped through his veins. "Now look what you've done! You've made him leave. What a way to make someone feel unwelcome. Madison," Duncan scolded.

"And why should I care?"

"Because...he was possibly...a guest."

"No. That was that bastard, _Ash_..." he spat out.

****

*~*

Concluding Statements: Another chapter written and uploaded. I liked writing this chapter. It was fun; plus, I got to set myself up with another dilemma. Cool, huh? Don't forget to review. Oh...I don't have anymore recommendations this time so, if you haven't done it already, I'm sure my buds would appreciate it if you gave their fics a read. —The Duke of Briarcliffe 


	15. Chapter Fourteenth: Chestnuts Roasting o...

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*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*

Chapter Fourteenth: Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

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Written by the Duke of Briarcliffe

*~*

Author's Notes: Thanks for everything once more, especially to Shakru; it's nice knowing that I have an ongoing fan. Where are your reviews? Just kidding. As sad as it may seem, I think that there will only be about 6 more chapters after this. I'll try to make them good for you. —The Duke of Briarcliffe

****

*~*

"While troubles will come, they are always temporary—nothing lasts forever. Thus, there is the famous legend that King Solomon, the wisest man of all times, had a ring inscribed with the words, This too shall pass." —Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan

*~*

"YOU MUST BE SICK OR SOMETHING because that definitely was _not_ Ash," Duncan pronounced, folding his arms over his chest. "Which means that you just yelled at someone whom you don't even know."

"Believe me, I know Ash when I see him," Madison declared.

"Well obviously you don't, because that was not him," Duncan pointed out once more, growing more smug each passing second, thus adding kindling to Madison's already raging inferno.

"How can I not know Ash when I see him?" Madison pointedly asked, it was a rather rhetoric answer, or one that cannot be given an exact answer. Annoyance was climbing higher and higher and there was no gardener to prune it. One more stupid statement and he wasn't sure that he could be held responsible for what ensued.

"Ash is a _middle-aged _man, Madison. He _probably_ has gray hair and, judging from the last time I saw him, he is at least two inches shorter than that guy that was here. Because of you, I wasn't even able to get my pokéballs!"

"Oh, that's it!" Madison yelled as he grabbed part of Duncan's shirt—near the shoulders—and slammed him up against the adjacent wall. He was so enraged that he hadn't realized how hard he'd done it. The adrenaline pumped faster, and he barely knew if he could suppress the urge to smash his friend's face in right then and right there.

"That was my half-fucking-brother, Ash. _God! _You're such a dumb-ass! You think you know everything when you really don't!"

"Alright, I think that we had better leave; come on Aerin," Imagen hurriedly announced to the pair who was enduring a staring-fest near the doorway. It looked as if Madison was about to claw Duncan's eyes out or strangle him to death, as he held him up against the wall, and Duncan looked like he was under an intense sort of pressure. They remained that way, seemingly unaffected by Imagen's sudden announcement.

Aerin still looked on, not seeming to notice that words that had come from her companion's mouth. Her body was tense, as if she was scared or something along those lines. For whatever reason, she did not budge from her place. A 12-point letter **Q **tablet still remained enclosed in her tight fist, having never been able to win the game with the word, **QUACK.**

"Girl, are you deaf or something? I said, 'Let's go!'—meaning now, or right this instant. I don't want to stick around for whatever might occur up in here," Imagen scolded her.

"But Jen, we can't just leave them here with all of this bad blood floating around. We have to try and calm them down," she pleaded after coming out of her taciturn trance. She snatched back her arm; "Now let go!"

Imagen bitterly narrowed her eyes at Aerin before allowing a loud, prolonged groan escape her lips. Then, raking her fingers through her hair, she made up her mind. Sauntering up to the pair, she irately said, "I'm getting sick and tired of this staring shit. If you're going to fight then, someone, _please_ bust a move because Aerin over here will not budge until she knows that everything is fine between you two. And I'm ready to go home now."

Madison was the first to break. His hard, cerulean eyes softened down quite drastically. "I have to go out and clear my head. I'll be back later," he said as he, not taking a windbreaker or anything, opened the door to leave. "Bye Imagen; bye Aerin; it was nice having you over." Then, he walked out of the door.

"Well?" Imagen scoffed.

"What?" Duncan queried, quite puzzled. The slightly rose tint that was in his cheeks had subsided, now leaving the natural light bronze. He stared at her broodingly for a few seconds before stating, "Oh. _I _see. If you think that I'm going to go after him then you are dreadfully mistaken." 

"Oh, get over it! He's your friend, probably one of your only friends. And when a friend storms out, I _think_ that you're supposed to go after him. Don't you think so too?"

"Normally I would. Anyways, he's a big guy; he can take care of himself."

Imagen groaned as she walked in a circle to relieve the anger that was growing inside of her. Deliberately talking slower she asked him, "What is it that you do not understand? He is your best friend. Who knows what type of trouble he might get himself into?"

"That's his own business, not mine."

"Well if you think that way, then you're a sorry ass friend. He'd be better off without you then," she growled. She glanced back at Aerin, who was still transfixed. "Girl, snap out of it! This is called a fight. You know, when two people don't agree with one another and get into some sort of confrontation? Get used to it. And don't look so scared. Calm down."

Aerin broke out of her trance. "I know what a fight is..."

"Then act like it."

Nasturtium busted out of the bedroom and came trotting up to Duncan. "[What the _hell_ is going on in here? What's up with all of that noise? Decent pokémon are trying to get some sleep over here!]"

Duncan jabbed an accusing finger at Imagen, who greeted it with an acidic glare. "If you care so much about him, and you're such a good friend, then why don't you go after him?"

Imagen blinked in surprise at his audacity and at his senselessness. She exhaled loudly before looking Duncan straight into his amethyst eyes. "You know what, Duncan Beechcombe. I _will_ go after Madison. You want to know why? Because _I_ actually care about his mental and physical well-being. I'm not going to stand here like a little bitch, just because he ruffed you up a little bit. Suck it up! Be a man!" Thus said, she dashed over to the couch, kicked on her Nikes, and stomped out of the loft.

After many moments of silence had passed, Aerin finally moved, and sidled next to Duncan. "Duncan," she said softly. "Is everything alright? Can I help in any way?"

"Just leave it alone Aerin; I don't feel like talking. I don't feel like being talked to as if I were a child," he answered. "So please, if you're going to talk to me like that, then just don't talk at all."

She winced at his harsh words. "If that is the way you feel, right now. I'll leave, Duncan, if that is what you want. We can talk when your anger has faded." She put on her shoes and grabbed her things and walked out of the door, pausing in the frame to give him one last remorseful look.

Duncan let out a loud sigh before looking down at the befuddled Chikorita at his feet. "What are you looking at?" he scoffed.

She extended a ready vine; "[You know better than to talk to me like that,]" she growled, violet eyes focused, and gleaming. When Duncan hadn't responded, she barked, "[That's what I thought.]" She began her withdrawal back to her warm bed, grumbling, "[I swear that all you humans have issues. And when you do have them, you always want to take them out on other things. But, the next time you try to pull a fast one on me, I'm coming back to get my hit in.]"

****

*~* 

"Come on Madison, wait up," Imagen called back, from about three blocks away on the brightly-lit sidewalk. Pumping her arms as she jogged a few paces, she soon closed the gap between them. When she had caught up with him, she walked alongside him for a few silent moments, her head lowered.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His attempt in trying to sound mean or even murderous had quickly been flushed down the toilet. Madison wanted to be angry toward everyone that came into contact with him; yet, oddly, he could not be angry at her, as much as he tried. "You have to go get James."

"James can wait right now, for once. Besides...he's sleeping with the pokémon," she replied.

That crack at trying to get her to leave had undeniably failed. He was drawing blanks there; nothing else came to mind. As a result, they walked in silence once more.

A rumbling in a thriving flower bush that fenced in part of the property from the sidewalk was heard but not observed. Imagen, for once, was at a loss of words and Madison, for once, wanted to empty all of his contents to her; the only problem was that he didn't know where to begin. She would definitely have to initiate the conversation. 

But she didn't.

Madison did.

"I bet your wondering why I was such a pompous ass back at the apartment," he asked her, his gaze drifting sideways so he could see her reaction. She had slightly grinned due at his choice of words, however, once her mirth had been partially satisfied, she set her mouth back into a clam line. Yet, in spite of all this, Madison could still trace the hint of a smile.

He wryly chuckled at himself and Imagen joined in.

"You have a weird laugh," she teased.

"I have a weird laugh? No, you have a weird laugh. You sound like Wilma and Betty from the Flintstones."

"I do not."

"Uh huh! Yeah you do. It's all feminine and housewifely."

"I am not a housewife," she playfully scoffed before dwindling down into a state of contemplative solicitude. "Well, I suppose you're right. I've always laughed like that. My mom used to smile every time I laughed."

Madison recalled his previous _tête-à-tête_ with Monsieur Beechcombe and remained silent, not wanting to foster any sort of sadness on her part. It was his turn to be angry, she'd been that way for the longest time. It was about him for once, yet he could not help but push his own feelings away for hers.

"I bet that your mother is really nice, huh?"  
He only nodded.

They walked a few more paces until a small store was reached at the corner. With just one look in each other's direction, the proposition of going in had been made. After the purchases had been made—two Clearly Canadians, one cherry and one blackberry, and two bags of Sonic Sour Cream Doritos—the pair were once again on the street.

"So who was that Ash guy?"

"My half-brother," Madison replied, emphazing the 'half' in his state. The very thought of his face made him tremble on the inside. He would have preferred not to have mentioned him, but it was Imagen; he was allowed to make exceptions after all. Besides, he needed some sort of outlet.

"Why do you say it so harshly? James is my half-brother, and I love him to death," Imagen told him.

"But you can't help but to love James. He's a baby. You can't hate a baby. It's like, virtually impossible," Madison reasoned with her, pausing to take a swig of the carbonated spring water. "This type of half-brother...well...it's just different, is all."

"_Is that the best you can come up with?_"

Madison sniffed, his lip curling into a smile.

"In case you haven't noticed, Ash Jr—I take it that your father's name was Ash, or else Duncan wouldn't have made such big old deal about it—he's a human being too. How can you hold so much hate towards him? I mean, he hasn't hurt you in anyway, has he?"

"Of course he has!" he snapped. "It's because of that bastard, the both of them, that my Mom is still sad and why everyone's so estranged right now. If my Dad would've kept it in his pants and Melody hadn't have kept her legs closed, then everything would be fine right now."

"I'm _still_ not registering how it is Ash's fault."

"If he and his stupid mother wouldn't have popped up on our doorstep and laid everything out, Mom wouldn't be suffering like she is now."

Imagen tossed it around in her head, thinking why should would do that. "Perhaps she didn't do it to break up your family. I think that her conscience might have gotten the best of her. She couldn't just pretend that it was nothing. Yeah, he was a mistake, but he's still a human being with feelings."

"I don't care about his feelings right now." He stopped and turned to face her, a look of bitter indignation brightly displayed on his face. "Do you know that now, because of him, I can sit in a room with my father, and not say one thing to him—one goddamned thing? We have no relationship anymore, and it's all his fault."

"Uh...Madison, I think that's your fault: that you don't have a relationship with your father."

"_What?_"

"Yeah. You could forgive him. You shouldn't let his mistakes ruin what you two had together and the potential of what you could have. I'm pretty sure that he's not the happiest person in the world right now. He probably regrets it every single day of his life. But you both seem selfish. _One_ of you have to make an effort."

"Selfish? _Selfish! _I go to his shitty-ass cabin in the middle of the woods nearly every goddamn summer, don't I? That's one of the most unselfish things I can do. He should be able to take it from there."

"Why do you make it seem like everything has to have a certain role, and if isn't played right, then all hope is lost? Everything doesn't work out, you know? You have to make a few adjustments here and there."

"And you know everything there is about life?"

She indignantly placed both hands on her hips and gave him a a scorching stare. "Well, for someone whose coped with two deaths in her lifetime, is a slave in an apartment that she is paying for, and is raising a child, I would say that I know _a_ _hell of a lot more_ than you—a person who puts the blame on someone who couldn't help it that he was caught in the middle."

Not taking the retort very well, he jeered, "Oh, and now you're a hypocrite? Practice what you preach, Imagen. I know that you hate James's father because he got your mother pregnant."

"Don't you dare talk about her! You don't even know her!" she growled. Then, calming herself down, she added, "It wasn't like she cheated on someone. My father had been dead for years! She was bound to have moved on by then. She just moved down instead of moving up. The only bad things that she did was have a baby out of wedlock and get in a car with someone plastered. Who told you that anyways?"

"Duncan."

"That bastard," she grumbled. "Why would he tell you? Why would you care?"

"Because, damn it, I like you."

She was thrown aback by his statement. Her mouth was agape in shock. She began to giggle hysterically. "So that explains a few things. Oh Duncan thinks he's so slick, doesn't he? You really need to stop blushing all the time. But anyways, back to the point: stop blaming Ash Jr. for your own personal problems."

Madison huffed and looked off in disbelief. "So that's it? I tell you how I feel about you and you just dismiss it like it was nothing?"

"What do you want me to do?" she spat. "Do you want me to start crying and tell you that I've had a hidden passion for you? Well guess what? I'm not. I have enough stress in my life, and I don't need any more excess baggage by having a boyfriend."

Still hopeful, he asked, "So you're saying that you don't have time for me, but that you feel the same way that I do?"

Imagen stopped and moved him so that he would be leaning up against the lamppost. She collected her will-power and her thoughts into one coherent oration. "Madison...you're a nice guy and all. Your funny and you're cute. But, I do not like you; I do not want your body; I don't want anything that you have to give except for your friendship."

He wasn't sure of how he should take this. She thought that he was funny—a plus—and cute—a definite plus—and even nice—a big plus; and yet, despite all of his amiable qualities, she didn't like him. "Am I not boyfriend material, or something, because I mean, I could—"

She shushed him by placing her index finger and her middle finger onto his lips and earnestly staring him into the eye. "Madison, you are good material, better than your friend, Duncan, if that makes you feel better. But I do not feel that way about you."

"But—"

"_Damn it; I don't like you like that!_ What aren't you comprehending?" she exploded. "What will make you understand that? I'm sorry for snapping at you like that, but I keep trying to tell you how I feel. Now please, just accept it."

Madison lowered his head down in penitence and said, "oh, all right." He looked up spryly, and said, "Well, at least I tried, right?" He turned around to go back to the loft, a stinging sensation in his eyes reminded him of his lost expectation as he retraced his footsteps.

Imagen couldn't help but feel a bit sad for him. She didn't like rejecting him. Perhaps there was something that she could do. Something, she'd never done before in her life. She ran up to him, threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him...

****

*~*

Concluding Statements: This one was a bit on the short side but I had a severe case of Writer's Block on this chapter. I pray that you enjoyed it. It was kind of hard for me to write it. I need your criticism. Please review. —The Duke of Briarcliffe 


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